


The Asgard Legacy Angle

by WordGeek



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aliens, Angst, First Time, M/M, Mpreg, Present Tense, Season/Series 07, Sex, Wordcount: Over 1.000, Wordcount: Over 10.000, Wordcount: Over 20.000, Wordcount: Over 30.000, Wordcount: Over 50.000, kink other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 61,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordGeek/pseuds/WordGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I must have your decision, O'Neill"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Asgard Legacy Angle

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Could be triggering. Frank discussion of termination

The blinding flash of light is hard to miss.

Blanchard remains calm --she's been here at the SGC since the beginning, so she's inured to the weird. Moments later when her sight returns, she finds that two of the infirmary's previously empty beds have been filled with apparently slumbering men. One's dressed in green and red tartan plaid boxers and a mud-colored t-shirt that reads 'Will Work for Duff', and the other is flat on his belly and naked as the day he was born.

"Doctor Fraiser," she says crisply, "can I see you please?" 

Inside of three heartbeats, the clicking of Fraiser's heels can be heard approaching from the direction of her office. "What is it, Jodi?"

Janet sees the Colonel first, then past the bulk of his body to what she knows from experience could only be Daniel Jackson's pert rear-end.

"Screens," she orders tightly with a sweep of her arm, not surprised that the nurse is already moving to pull them. Within moments they've rolled privacy barriers around each bed, blocking the occupants from view of the rest of the infirmary.

"Did you see the flash of light?" Blanchard asks under her breath.

"No. Nothing." Janet glances over her shoulder, wondering if the tech assigned to watch all the camera feeds caught the beam-in and how much time she has before he sends someone down to down to poke around. Odd the klaxon isn't going off. She has a brief thought to pull the alarm herself --sudden appearances are no less dangerous in her experience than sudden disappearances, but with closer scrutiny of the outline of O'Neill's body, she shuts that thought down. Maybe they have a chance to contain this...

"All of this is just between us," she cautions.

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse agrees, pulling a sheet over Daniel's nude form. "You want me to start a work-up?" She tugs latex gloves from the box on the table next to the bed and ducks behind Daniel's screen. He hasn't moved, even with the added noise.

"That's exactly what I want. Full panel, no IDs." She takes Jack's wrist to check his pulse as she pulls the stethoscope from her pocket with the other hand.

With her touch, Jack's awake, groggy and groping the bed, eyes wide, startled to find himself at the mercy of the SGC's CMO and not in his living room. He reaches for a covering that isn't there and encounters a belly he didn't have when he dozed off on the couch a few minutes ago. 

"What the FUCK!"

"Calm down," she says quietly. "Blanchard thinks she saw an Asgard beam. Let me check you out."

He struggles to sit up. "I look like I'm--"

"Yes, you do," she says with enviable calm, "but that's not even reasonable, is it? So it has to be something else. Let me do my job, and you try to remember you're a Colonel in the US Air Force."

Jack falls back to the bed, panting from the explosion of adrenaline that's just been dumped into his system. "My team?"

"Daniel showed up the same time as you did--"

"Is he--"

"Not obviously, no. But I'm not ruling anything out yet. Let me get you squared away before the rest of your team beams in and fills up my infirmary. Now lie down and let me listen to your heart."

"Can't." Jack once again struggles to get vertical. "I gotta piss like a motherf-- _Crap,"_ he growls. "Poor choice of words." He finally attains his feet and grabs her shoulder for leverage as he pushes past her with some urgency. "'Scuse me, Doc."

*****

Jack picks at the remaining food on his tray. The burger is dry and tasteless and the fries are greasy, and no one had thought to send dessert. All in all, not one of his more memorable gastronomic experiences.

There is a perfunctory knock at his door, but before Jack can reply, it immediately opens and General Hammond steps in, quietly closing the door behind him. Jack starts to rise, but Hammond waves him off. "As you were, Colonel."

"Is that a joke, sir?"

"Not an intentional one, I can assure you."

"Before you say anything, General," Jack says with forced enthusiasm, "I'd just like to say that this is one helluva delusion. You're looking especially dapper today." 

Hammond's sigh is expansive, indicating the extraordinary day he's already had. "According to all of Doctor Fraiser's tests, it's not a delusion, Jack."

"Crap, sir," he says softly, his falsely cheerful face falling away to nothing. "Any word on my team?"

"Major Carter was at home sleeping peacefully --and unchanged in any way-- when we paged her to the base. Teal'c passed a quiet night in kel'no'reem with nothing out of the ordinary to report there either. Apparently only you and Doctor Jackson were involved in this... situation."

"Oh, joy."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Football game, Eagles at Tampa Bay. Bucs were losin' pretty bad." 

"You were at home? Alone?"

"Yes, sir. Had a couple of beers and a bag of Doritos for dinner and crashed on the couch."

"And woke up..."

"Knocked up. Yes, sir."

"And Doctor Jackson?"

Jack sighs. "I don't know anything. Some nurse stuck me here before I could even talk to him. Haven't seen Fraiser in--" he checks his watch, "-- more than three hours." He picks another fry off his tray, examines it, and then swipes it through the considerable puddle of ketchup. "At least she sent food." He pops it into his mouth, then washes it down with a swig of flat soda. "Good thing, too, since I'm apparently eating for two these days," he adds sourly.

"Major Carter's been able to determine that an Asgard beam deposited you and Doctor Jackson directly into the infirmary at precisely 22:45 last night. She's reasonably certain she can calibrate some of her instruments to see if there've been any other events with that kind of energy signature in the Colorado Springs area, but it would help if you could reduce the potential time frame. Can you remember how much of the game you saw before you fell asleep?"

"I remember half time and the start of the third quarter," he says. "After that..." he shrugs. He jerked off with that whole lineup of bouncing tits, then lay there dozing in a kind of stupor, and then, BLAMMO. Screwed. For real. He doesn't think Hammond needs to know that part.

"I'll let Major Carter know so she can work on narrowing down the timing of when they might've taken you both. We've been attempting to contact the Asgard for the last three hours to no avail."

"Figures." He looks around the VIP room, a very un-Colonel-like feeling of desperation and fear welling up inside him. Pushing those emotions down is getting more difficult with each passing moment. Damned hormones. "So here I sit. Waiting for... what? I need to be _doing_ something. To figure out what to do about--" he waves his hand angrily, _"--this."_

"Doctor Fraiser moved you here for privacy, Jack. I've pulled last night's tapes and Teal'c is reviewing them. Right now, we've got awareness of this little problem locked down to the members of SG-1, Doctor Fraiser and Lieutenant Blanchard. They did a remarkable job getting you down here and squared away without being seen by any other base personnel. I'm sure you don't want the NID to get wind of your condition under any circumstances."

"You got that right."

"Any idea why the Asgard would do something like this in the first place?"

Jack shakes his head. "Absolutely none. I thought Thor and I were buddies. I never would've expected him to..." Jack waves his hand over his distended midsection again. They’d given him a set of scrub pants he was able to tie underneath his new belly, and two of those drafty wrap around things he was wearing front to back, so at least he's covered. But the skin of his stomach is tight and itches like crazy. He _really_ wants to scratch, but not especially in front of his CO.

And on top of all that, he suddenly has an outie where his regular belly button used to be which, considering how noticeable it is beneath the drape of the gown, is rather disconcerting. He's tried to push it back in but it just kind of, _foops_ right back out...

"And how do you feel about the fact that Doctor Jackson seems to be the... other parent?"

"Nice sidestep, sir. How do I feel? Like my life's been hijacked. The fact that the... donor... is someone I know doesn't really make it any better." He shakes his head. "Frankly, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy."

"I can only imagine. Doctor Fraiser has assured me that the fetus is human in all respects, and is genetically related to both you and Doctor Jackson."

"Yes, sir," Jack mumbles, looking away. Then he tries for eye contact, but it's brief. "Daniel and I are friends, sir," he states as calmly as he can. "There's never been--"

"I believe you, son," he replies gently. "Never even entered my mind."

Jack nods. He's not sure he'd be as calmly accepting if their positions were reversed and Hammond suddenly showed up in the briefing room _showing,_ but Jack decides the General doesn't need to know that little tidbit either.

"Doctor Fraiser also estimates that you're about thirty-eight weeks along, and says that as long as the tests come back indicating that its lungs are sufficiently developed, delivery could commence at any time."

"And I'd be lyin' if I said _that_ didn't worry me."

"Fraiser is certain that she and Doctor Friedlander can perform a simple caesarian with no danger to you or your baby."

"Baby," Jack whispers with a sadly ironic shake of his head. "Isn't that a kick in the balls? I'm a fifty-one year old single man. What the hell am I supposed to do with a baby?"

Hammond smiles gently, and Jack bites down on the urge to scream at what he perceives is a patronizing expression. "The same thing other SG team members do, I suspect. Take a little time off and then engage some type of child care."

Jack shakes his head ruefully. This is too fucking much for anyone to have to deal with. "I'm too old for this. For starting over. Alone. I could be its grandfather, for chrissake. I can't..." He shakes his head again at the lunacy of it all.

Into the ensuing silence of the dropped sentence, George asks, "Are you considering giving the child up for adoption?"

"Yeah, I am." It's the only thing that makes sense, really.

"What does Doctor Jackson have to say about that?"

The question infuriates him because if their situations had somehow been reversed --god forbid-- he'd have found a way to get to Daniel, to be there for him. He wouldn't have left him to sit alone in a VIP room eating cold, leaden fries and scratching his enormous belly.

"Beats me," he says as evenly as he can. "But then, it isn't his body that got hijacked, is it?"

*****

Daniel sits alone in his apartment, staring at the glass tumbler. It's a heavy lead crystal snifter he bought for two dollars at an estate sale when he was in grad school. Not terribly practical, but it'd caught his eye and he'd made an offer and it'd been one of the few things he managed to keep with him from move to move. Even, apparently, from death to un-death, since it was one of the 'personal things' Jack salvaged from the 'ton of junk' he claims he threw away.

He'd poured a healthy shot of Scotch into it the minute he'd walked in the door, then drained it in one gulp. Jack had given him the bottle as a welcome-back-to-the-mortal-plane gift. They'd each had a shot the night they'd sent Jonas home, and then Jack'd given him a shoulder-pat and a neck-squeeze, and he'd headed home, leaving Daniel alone with a sensory deluge that pretty much explained the entire reason he'd come back.

He'd poured a second measure immediately, as soon as he'd sputtered to the surface after the first one, and he's been staring into the amber fluid ever since because this is oh, so bad. So very, very bad. Janet had told him about the flash of light, which could only mean Asgard involvement, and when had _that_ ever turned out well?

Janet had been tied up with Jack's tests and fairly easy to con. He'd answered some questions, given his pound of flesh in the form of various bodily fluids, and been allowed to leave the infirmary with hardly any whining needed.

Because Jack had gotten the worst of it; in this, Daniel is nothing but an interested bystander. The weapon in the drive-by shooting, as it were.

This is his fault. And soon, they'll all know that.

He knows he has to face Jack eventually, tell him what happened. Explain. He has no idea what Jack will do. He'll be furious; that's a given. But afterward...? Surely after, once he's gotten used to the whole idea, once he's resigned himself to the inevitability of it...

Who the fuck is he kidding? Jack will kill him, and no one will ever find his body.

He has to get this over with; the dreading of it is killing him, and whatever numbing effects the liquor'd originally had is dissipating pretty rapidly with the stress.

He calls Janet to see if she can help him gauge Jack's mood. She's rushed, on her way to a meeting with Hammond, and tells him she'll be running more tests after she's done with the General. In the meantime, Jack's been stashed in a VIP room and not allowed off base. 

Oh, excellent. A captive audience.

Daniel closes his eyes in depressed resignation as he thanks Janet, tells her goodbye. Hopes it isn't forever. He feeds his fish one last time just in case it is.

He showers, and takes one swig of the coffee he'd made, but decides his gut's too rocky for the additional acid and leaves it on the counter. He dresses quickly in jeans, a pullover and loafers. He locks up the apartment and is stepping into the elevator as he realizes he's forgotten something. He waves the car along with its confused occupant and retraces his steps to his front door, unlocks it and snags the mostly-full bottle of Glen Fiddich off the coffee table, tucking it into his jacket before heading out again.

When Daniel gets to his office he takes a drink right from the bottle, relishing the burn all the way down. He's still painfully aware. He thinks about taking another one because, dear god, he can't do this sober, but his belly feels like it's sloshing with the little he's already had and he doesn't think he can risk anymore. He rummages around in his desk drawer for the roll of antacids and crunches four of them, the chalky residue threatening to finish what the booze and coffee started. Palming the cork back into the bottle, Daniel heads to the VIP room.

*****

The knock startles Jack, but he doesn't reply. No one is supposed to know he's in here, which is why he hasn't even turned on the TV. He struggles to his feet as quietly as he can and moves to stand by the door to listen. On the way, he grabs a two-year old People magazine that's been sitting on the bookcase and rolls it up as a weapon. He feels slow and bloated and not at all dangerous with his flimsy magazine bludgeon, _but no one is supposed to know he's in here..._

When he hears a whispered, "Jack?" he releases his held breath and opens the door. He reaches through the narrow opening, grabs an arm and yanks, quickly and quietly shoving the door closed behind his visitor.

"What the--" Daniel stumbles, recovers, and gawks at Jack's condition. They'd moved Jack by the time Daniel awakened, and this-- this is so much worse than the picture in his head had been. "My god..."

"You come here for the freak show?" Jack demands irrationally. He wanted Daniel to be here, was pissed that he wasn't. But he's here now and Jack is still furious.

"No, I--" Daniel snaps his jaw shut, wishing he had planned something to say. "You're..."

"Pregnant," Jack snaps, tossing the magazine down on the bed with no small amount of disgust and dropping down beside it. Standing is hard. Walking is waddling. He must be carrying an additional forty pounds, for cryin' out loud. _Christ,_ he's tired. "The word you're looking for is _pregnant."_

"Oh, god."

Daniel's using that 'small' voice again, the one he hasn't used in a couple of years, the one that always reminds Jack of floppy hair and boonies. He sighs, the anger starting to drain. "What do you want?"

"I--" Daniel swallows hard. Takes a deep breath. Still no easy words, just the hard ones. "I came to... apologize." 

"For what? You didn't do this."

"I sorta did. They used me. My-- To do... this... to you. And I feel... I'm just so--" he frowns, his eyes drawn to the enormity of Jack's mid-section,"--confused."

"That makes two of us. I mean, why you and not Teal'c? Or Siler? Or... Walter, for that matter? Guess I should be grateful they didn't pick Hammond."

"Are you trying to be funny?"

"Would you rather watch me cry?"

Daniel wonders if Jack's serious. The thought is chilling. "No," he murmurs. "I just. I know this isn't. There really aren't any. I mean, I don't have any illusions. About y'know, myself. And I certainly can't make any guesses about--" He takes a deep breath, bending at the waist, hands on his knees, just trying to breathe. 

This is so fucking hard.

"Daniel, you're babbling."

"Yes, yes, I am," he says, straightening with a pained groan. "I know. Babbling. I do that sometimes. Especially when there isn't any way in _hell--"_ He's angry now, beyond pissed, that someone --that _Thor_ \-- would do this to his friend. To both of them. Regardless of all the other crap, this is just so very _wrong._  
  
Jack sees Daniel sway. "Have you been drinking?"

"Wha-? Well, just a little bit."

"Here on base?"

"Of course," he snaps indignantly. "You don't think I'd _drive_ like this, do you?"

"I would hope not. Why don't you sit down over there and tell me just what it is you needed to get juiced up in order to say to me."

Daniel makes no move toward the chair, but remains standing, just staring at Jack. Not meeting his eyes. "It's my fault," he admits softly.

"What is?"

"This. That. You." He flaps his hand in Jack's general direction. "That way."

"Preg-nant," Jack enunciates carefully. "The word the overpaid linguist is having trouble wrapping his over-educated lips around is preg-nant."

"Oh god," he whispers.

Daniel's eyes are huge, Jack thinks. Bluer than ever. Wet, it looks like.

"You're pregnant."

"There ya go."

"With my..."

"Say it."

"No." 

Daniel's eyes open even wider, and Jack's kinda hypnotized by them.

"I can't."

"Sure ya can," Jack says gently. "With your..."

"My," Daniel says in an intake of terrified breath. "Mine..."

"My...?"

"Oh god," Daniel's lips say, because he has no more breath.

"Daniel--" Jack can see the blood drain from Daniel's face, and gets an arm under himself, just in case he might need to-- 

"Baby," Daniel gasps, staring all the while at Jack's protruding belly underneath the layers of infirmary gowns. "My baby." He starts to sway.

Jack is off the bed, an arm around Daniel's waist catching him before his knees completely buckle, and shoves him unceremoniously into a nearby chair. "Head between your knees." He pats Daniel's head as it lowers towards the floor. "Yeah, just like that." 

Daniel groans into his own lap. "Oh, god, Jack, it's all my fault..."

"Yeah, if I were you, I'd be more than a little freaked out about having had an Asgard hand job too." He makes a face. "I'm tryin' _real_ hard not to think too specifically about the actual _implanting_ part..." 

Daniel sits up, eye level with Jack's shifting belly where the gown is pulled tight. "Did it just--" He swallows hard. "Move?"

Jack rests a hand on his considerable bump, feeling the object inside shift under his palm, like a dog nuzzling for a pat. "Yeah, it's been pretty active since you got here. Maybe it senses that Dad's nearby."

Daniel looks up at him. "D-dad?"

Jack shrugs, finally reaching a decision. "Well, since I seem to be doing the incubating, that would leave you with being the... dad. Right?"

"Oh. My. God."

"You keep saying that." Jack frowns. "You're not gonna hurl are ya?"

"No, no. I don't think so, I'm just..."

"Overwhelmed?"

Daniel nods.

With a deep sigh, Jack pats him on the shoulder "Well, hold onto your cookies. I've got a proposition for ya."

*****

Sam appears at Daniel's office door. "Okay, I've got to take a break from this before I tear my hair out. Come have lunch with me."

After leaving Jack, he'd taken the time to change into uniform, just like this was any other workday. His head is now completely clear of the effects of the alcohol he'd had earlier; major life crises could do that to you. "No time."

She's tempted to wheedle, since sometimes that works with him. But something in the set of his jaw as he stands by his desk, sorting reports into piles, scuttles that plan. "What's the matter?"

Grinding his teeth, he replies under his breath, "I found out a couple of hours ago that I'm apparently going to become a single parent in less than a week." He finishes with the stack of paper in his hands and grabs another. "And there's a lot to do to get ready."

She moves into the office so he'll have to set the crap down and turn his back to the camera in order to face her. "What's happened?"

Daniel slams the stuff in his hands onto his desk and turns to lean back against it. It's good one of them is thinking of the cameras, and it's clear that in his current state it isn’t him. "Jack was going to give it up for adoption," Daniel snaps in a hushed whisper. "I can't believe he wouldn't want it, doesn't love it already. I mean, my god, it's _growing inside him-_ \- doesn't he get what a miracle that is?"

She tries to keep her face impassive for the camera, but inside she's as shocked as he. "You're sure?"

 _"Yes._ I'm also pretty sure he'd have aborted it, if he hadn't already been so far along." His tone betrays his disgust, and he doesn't care. "You think you know someone..."

"Wow." She'd assumed the Colonel would be happy and glowing at the prospect, however unlikely the cause, based on her observation of his behavior around kids of all kinds. "This does complicate things just a bit. What're you going to do?"

With a sigh, Daniel drops wearily into the chair beside him. "I've told Hammond I can't be on a gate team anymore. He said he'd put the paperwork through first thing tomorrow. He's letting me keep department head, but there'll probably be a reduction in pay, not that that should be a real problem, I mean, now that I'm officially off the 'killed-in-action' list, Personnel's returned both of my old bank accounts. Apparently no one knew what to do with them after I ascended, so I've got some savings--"

Sam waves him to a stop. "Wait. Go back. Why can't you stay on the team?"

"I can't do anything that would put myself at risk, Sam," he says, trying to rein in his exasperation. "I won't leave him an orphan."

"Right," she nods, feeling the smile bloom on her face. "Him?"

"It's a boy," Daniel says, wonder choking the word back into a whisper. "Jack and I have a son together." He swallows hard, feeling the sting of joyful tears, tinged with stabbing regret because Jack was pretty clear about his position on the subject. _What? I'm not interested, but I figured you should have first right of refusal, no?_ "The way he is with kids, I never imagined he wouldn't want to be a part of his baby's life in some way." This is more confusion and heartbreak than he can manage right now, and he really wishes she'd just leave him be.

She reaches out to rub his shoulder. "Maybe he will," she says hopefully, "once he sees him. Holds him."

Daniel shakes his head, folding his arms across his chest to hold himself together. "I don't think so. He was pretty adamant." He'd been doing all right up to now, riding the anger to keep the tears away, but Sam's being understanding and supportive, and it's killing him.

"No, it's me. He'd feel differently, I think, if the other parent had been you." He keeps his eyes pointed toward the floor, so he doesn't see her reaction, the reality of which he'd rather not actually have burned into his mind, something he knows for sure will kill their friendship. "I know you and he--"

"No," she says firmly. The two of them had never talked about it, and because he hadn't been in the room the day the armbands made her and the Colonel stupid, she's been happy to assume all these years that he hadn't heard about what went on. She feels selfish and small for being so naive and not coming clean to him sooner. 

"Nothing has ever happened," she says with as much gentle firmness as she can manage, because the poor man looks on the verge of tears. "Flirting on occasion, nothing more. It's kind of embarrassing, looking back on it." She absently looks around his office, as though seeking the common sense that had often eluded her regarding her CO. "I don't know what I was thinking." She squeezes his shoulder before she drops her hand, making an effort to soften her voice even more. "You always did a much better job of hiding your feelings for him than I did."

His head snaps up immediately, denial at the ready. "I don't know--"

Her gaze is intense and he cannot escape it. "Yes, you do."

"Sam..." He wants to refute it. To tell her she's crazy, and who the hell could fall hopelessly in love with that obnoxious, arrogant, aggravating man? But the answer's obvious; they both have. She's just being gracious, because Daniel's claim is stronger now. He feels bad for his petty jealousy. He looks down into his lap and whispers, "I'm sorry." 

"Does he know how you feel?" she asks. "Does he even swing that way?"

Daniel grunts sadly. When Jack told him he was giving up the baby, Daniel'd been too stunned and then too angry to bother with a heartfelt confession, so Jack doesn't have a fucking clue how Daniel feels. And as far as Daniel is concerned, he never needs to know. "Apparently not even a little bit, given his reaction to all this."

"What're you going to do?"

Heaving a deep breath, he lets it out in a measured way, skirting the swelling pool of sadness that now completely fills his heart as he reviews the mental list he's started. 

"Well, I've only got a one-bedroom apartment, so eventually I'll have to move, get something with a yard. But not right away. I can get a cradle or something to start off. That won't take up a lot of room. 

"On Abydos, both parents take turns wearing the baby in a sling kind of thing called a kheredept as they go about the daily chores of living. But I'm pretty sure the General wouldn't want me to bring a baby to work with me, so I'll-um, need daycare I guess. Is there a waiting list for something like that? I don't even know. 

"Paternity leave; not sure how that works, or how much time that gives me to find a place that will take a newborn. Hammond said he's working on arranging official papers, y'know a birth certificate and all that stuff we did to make Cassie legal."

He runs his hands through his hair, fighting back the feeling of being weighed down with more decisions, more plans, more fucking _unknowns_ than he thinks he can handle alone. Overwhelmed doesn't even begin to cover it. 

"Daniel," she says softly. "Before you go too far, maybe you should think a little bit about other options."

He frowns up at her. "Like what?"

"Well," she hedges, knowing this is delicate territory for a lot of reasons. "Maybe the Colonel's right. Sometimes... the best thing for a child is for someone else to raise it. A family with two parents."

"Wait."

His expression is one of disbelief mixed with shock, but thankfully no anger. She thinks maybe she should've waited.

"You think I'm being selfish for wanting to raise him by myself?"

His expression is crestfallen. She waffles a bit, but presses on. "I thought about taking Cassie when we first found her, but realized that I'm much more suited to being the doting aunt than the mom," she explains gently, with a hopefully nonjudgmental shrug. "It's an option."

"But I'm his father," Daniel whispers brokenly. Not words he'd ever thought he would have an opportunity to say in any context.

"I know," she says gently. "I know. And I know how badly you want to be able to give your son the kind of home life you remember having before the accident that took your parents from you. But Daniel... alone? That's going to be so _hard."_  
  
His jaw tightens with determination. "I think I need to do this. I let Oma talk me into giving up Sha're's baby, and I've always..." He shakes his head to dispel the frantic welling of grief inside him which that lost opportunity represents. "I need to do this," he repeats thickly.

"I think I get it." She smiles, glad he isn't angry, and even more relieved that it's him and not her who's in this position. "What can I do to help?"

"Well," he states with as much confidence as he can muster, "if you have time after work, maybe you could come shopping with me? I'm sure I'm gonna need a lot of stuff I know next to nothing about. I could really use a doting aunt's advice."

"You got it," she says with a grin. "I'd be very happy to be your son's doting aunt."

"Thanks, Sam." He stands and pulls her into a hug. "Meet you up top at six? We'll grab some dinner first."

"Sounds good," she agrees, heading out.

The echo of her footsteps hasn't even died out when Daniel feels the beam take him.

*****

He's on a ship; that much is pretty certain, based on the stationary star field visible through the viewing ports. And if he's here, then--

"JACK!"

He starts moving toward the corridor he sees branching off on the other side of the large open area. "Jack!" he continues to shout as he steps up to every opening, checking each room as the door slides clear. "Jack!" he calls repeatedly, his eyes sweeping the space for some sign of either his missing friend or the Asgard whose hospitality he's currently enjoying.

Jack's in the fourth room he checks, lying on a table amidst what is probably a lot of fancy medical equipment, and covered by a thin silver sheet. "Jack," he hisses. He approaches cautiously, scanning the rest of the room to make sure they're alone. 

When he gets up to the table, he can make out Jack's chest rising and falling, so drugged or sleeping then, but at least alive, filling Daniel with waves of gratitude. He reaches out a tentative hand to touch the enormous protrusion of his belly, laying his palm against it gently, sure he can feel the life pulsing beneath it.

"Are you quite finished feeling me up?"

Daniel jerks his hand back as if burned. Then he frowns, remembering how pissed off and disappointed he is with this man. "Forgive me for wanting to make sure you were okay," he snaps. "That _he_ was okay."

"He?"

And now Daniel's _livid._ "Yes. It's a boy, you ass. Didn't you even bother to ask? Or were you too busy trying to find a way to get rid of him?"

"We don't have time for this now," Jack growls, struggling to sit up. "Have you seen anyone? Thor? One of the others?"

"No." Daniel grabs Jack by the arm to help leverage him upright, as he continues to scan the room. He may not be armed, but that doesn't mean he wants to be surprised. "I beamed in on another part of the ship and went looking for you. Haven't seen anyone else." He appraises the other man with a wary eye as the sheet obeys gravity and slinks its way down his bare chest and then begins its elegant, shimmering cascade over Jack's distended waist, picking up speed on its way to the floor. "Are you naked under there?"

Jack grabs at the covering, his belly fully exposed, but thanks to the bump itself, his package is well overshadowed and still pure. He's not sure whether or not to feel grateful that in comparison to his gargantuan belly his manhood's been relegated to some sad afterthought cowering between his legs. He gingerly lifts the corner and peeks underneath. "Apparently. _Crap."_  
  
"Ye-ah..." Daniel stutters, his eyes going wide. "Does this mean it's time to uh... y'know?"

"For a linguist who gets paid as much as you do, you sure have a lot of trouble actually getting words out," Jack observes acerbically as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. Table. Whatever. There's a draft behind him, and he knows his butt's hanging out. _Double crap._

"Must be the company," Daniel grumps. "Here, can we wrap this around you like a sort of toga?" He helps Jack off the table and arranges the shiny cloth for his modesty. "Can you walk?"

"I'm pregnant," Jack scowls, "not crippled." His ungainly movements due to the unaccustomed and unbalanced weight distribution belie that lofty statement, but he has his dignity to think about. 

At the door, he stops, and looks left and then right down the nearly featureless corridor. "Any idea which way to the bridge?"

"That was probably the open area I beamed into," Daniel replies, pointing left. "This way."

As they make their way toward the bridge, Daniel eyes his companion --the father? mother? of his child-- seemingly more heavily pregnant than just a few hours ago, and blurts, "I guess this is as good a time as any to say this. It's all my fault, and I'm sorry."

Annoyed, Jack sneers, "Yeah, yeah, we went through all that already. Course you probably don't remember, seein' as how you were drunk off your ass at the time."

Daniel seethes. "What I _didn't_ get a chance to tell you, you insufferable jerk, is that the reason this is all my _fault_ is because somehow the Asgard found out that I've had a thing for you for years. They probably thought they were doing me a favor or something--"

Jack stumbles to a stop. "At my expense!" he shouts.

"Ergo, the reason I said I was _sorry!"_ Daniel yells back.

"Well, 'sorry' don't get rid of the stretch marks, pal--"

"You should not be moving around, O'Neill," a small voice behind them says.

They both spin around, Daniel catching Jack on the elbow to steady him as he sways. 

"Thor!" Jack bellows. "What the FUCK?"

"There is not much time," Thor says levelly. "We must act quickly." And with that, he turns back toward the room they've just left and shuffles away.

"Oh, no you don't!" Jack says, warning dripping from his voice as he follows the small gray being, his own bare feet flapping against the cold metal floor. "You stand still and tell me how you plan to fix this problem you've created."

"Please recline on the table," Thor insists.

"No, no, no, no, no," Jack counters. "I'm not reclining anywh--" And then a blue beam thingy happens and all of a sudden, he's reclining against his will. "HEY!"

"Thor," Daniel says, assuming his Peaceful Explorer persona, hands out to the side, empty, beseeching voice low and steady. "We're really confused, here. And Jack's scared--"

"Speak for yourself!"

"Okay, _I'm_ scared," Daniel corrects, voice still calm, eyes still only on the Asgard in front of him. "I don't know why you've done this to Jack, but it's not natural for a human male to carry a child, and I'm worried for both Jack and our son. Can you tell me why you did this? I'd really like to understand."

Thor blinks twice, and Daniel half expects him to roll those big, black eyes at him.

"The Asgard are finished as a race," Thor says simply, his voice and demeanor as completely devoid of emotion as ever, despite the dire proclamation. "The Replicators have destroyed much of the galaxy of Othalla, and nearly all of our outposts in Ida, and those few of us who are left on Orilla, dare not attempt to move to yet another galaxy, lest we carry the infestation with us again. 

"Unfortunately, the Replicators have nearly breached the time dilation field within which they were contained," he continues. "There are scant few ships left in our garrison, and our individual numbers are even fewer. With our combined efforts, however, we have a plan to stop them before they are able to rupture the field altogether. We may yet succeed, but every one of us is required, if we are to have a chance of success."

Leaning up on an elbow, Jack frowns, his earlier anger somewhat dissipated with the grim circumstances. "Isn't there something--"

"There is not. The Asgard have not been able to devote the time and energy to solving our cloning issues, due to the unrelenting devastation of various bands of Replicators upon our numbers. We are doomed.

"As its final act, the High Council decreed that our culture and knowledge should not die with us, and it was unanimously decided that this legacy be bestowed upon The Fifth Race. The simplest plan would be to leave you with one of our ships. I have every confidence Major Carter could, in time, discern the root kernel of our technological advancements, and it would be a simple matter for Daniel Jackson to interpret the bequest of our heritage from the data contained within the ship's computer.

"However, we need every ship for our plan to succeed, and there is insufficient time to construct a computer core in which to place the enormity of this information in a manner that would be compatible with the current level of technology you possess.

"We thought to create an organic matrix that would contain the sum total of our knowledge and experience, something you could easily access, learning to adapt the information as your race progressed. However, your brains are not physiologically advanced enough to manage the sheer volume of information. The only hope lay in Loki's experimental research--"

"Wait-- Loki?" Daniel asks, a cold lump of dread forming in his gut right next to the one with Jack's name on it. "The Norse god of mischief and mayhem?" He reads the slight incline of Thor's head as a shrug equivalent, and his unease escalates.

"Loki had, until recently, been stripped of his position and banned from the Ruling Council. Some of his more radical attempts to counter our cloning difficulties utilized humans removed from Earth, and once the Asgard took Earth as a protected planet, we could no longer officially condone this activity. Since then, he has been confined in such a way that he could not trouble your people any longer. It was his idea to construct a hybrid utilizing your Ancient gene, O'Neill, melded with genetic material from Daniel Jackson. It is hoped that his expanded consciousness from having been ascended will be represented in his organic output and will be sufficient to contain the sum total of the Asgard legacy."

Daniel frowns at the mention of his 'organic output' and resolutely doesn't meet Jack's eyes, although he can feel the other man's angry stare from across the room burning a hole right through the top of his head.

"I was about to conclude the developmental process when I was called away," Thor continues, oblivious to the discomfort between the two humans before him. "Believing the jump into hyperspace too dangerous for the fetus at its current stage of growth, I elected to transport you both to Earth rather than take you along on my errand. I returned as soon as I could, but I cannot linger here. The Asgard await the arrival of my ship so we may implement our plan to destroy the Replicators before they can complete their escape of the time dilation device."

 _"Escape?"_ Jack growls. _"Again?"_ They'd all nearly died on that mission, and he still had nightmares from that damned hand-in-the-forehead thingy. "I thought you said that contraption would hold them for next to forever."

Thor turns back to the control board as though dismissing Jack's accusing comment as unworthy of response. "We may now conclude the developmental process." And with that, he begins to shift the controls around on the panel.

"W-wait!" Daniel shouts, crossing the room to stand near Jack's table. "Our doctors said the baby is human, not Asgard."

"It is completely human," Thor agrees.

"But his brain is filled with Asgard knowledge?" Daniel cries in horror. "My god, how could you _do_ that?" This is the nightmare of Shifu all over again. 

"I'm real sorry about your race, Thor, but Daniel's right. It's not fair to the kid," Jack agrees firmly. "Undo it."

"I cannot; the process is irreversible. I can terminate the life within you, and the entirety of the Asgard race will end, or I can cause it to come into being as we planned, and both the child and our culture will survive. I can give you several of your minutes to discuss and decide between the two of you." He steps down off the platform and heads for the door, which opens at his approach.

Appalled, eyes wide with disbelief, Daniel asks, "How could you make us choose something like this?" 

Thor stops, turning back to face both Humans. "I truly did not foresee this level of discomfort, given the mutual nature of your feelings toward one another," he replies blandly. "It is unfortunate, but not relevant. I will return presently." And he's gone.

Mouth open, Daniel stares at the closed door for a long silent moment, then his expression hardens as he slowly turns just his head to glare over his shoulder at Jack, who's still leaning up on one arm. 

"Oh, _what?_ Like we have time for this now?" He secures his lumbering form with a stabilizing hand under his belly and sits up with some difficulty. "Your guilt trip sucks ass, Daniel, so knock it off. And this whole Asgard legacy thing. How can they do that to a kid? How is this any different than the Goa'uld using Cassie or Rya'c as mules for their bombs?"

"You can't equate the Asgard with the Goa'uld," Daniel snaps. "I think the intent's a little different, don't you? The Asgard aren't trying to destroy us. They're going to rid the universe of the Replicators, and all they're asking in return is some help preserving their culture and knowledge. And as a _side benefit,_ Earth gets the tech we've been so greedy to get our hands on for the last seven years. Can you blame them for doing an end run?"

"I'm PREGNANT!" Jack sticks his protruding abdomen out as far as he can, jabbing one index finger in its direction. "And yes, I BLAME them!"

"Stop changing the subject."

"Seriously?" Now using both hands, Jack points indignantly at his belly. "I ask you, how is this NOT the subject!"

Daniel approaches the table slowly. Sauntering, almost. He's seething inside, but yelling at Jack won't accomplish productive dialogue. If anything, the man is more stubborn that he is. Daniel's fighting for this baby's life, and apparently there isn't a lot of time.

With effort, he keeps his demeanor cool and calm, the caged adrenaline coursing through his system making him stoic and unbreakable. He will need that armor to get through this. 

"And just where do you get off yelling at me at all?" he demands quietly. "Even after I confessed to you, told you how I feel about you --have felt about you for _years,_ apparently, according to my jumbled memories-- all you could do was bitch about stretch marks. And all the while there is --according to Thor-- the matter of our _mutual_ feelings toward one another."

"Thor misspoke," Jack says firmly, keeping Daniel's eyes only with some difficulty. He's making an effort to deliver the news as gently as possible, but Daniel's not making it easy. "I'm as straight as they come." He pauses, then adds more softly, "I'm sorry."

Daniel lifts his chin fractionally, eyes narrowing in an attempt to gauge the truth of those statements as he studies the man in front of him. His skepticism hangs in the air between them, seeping from his every pore, not needing to be voiced to be understood. _Oh, really..._

"What do you want me to say?" Jack asks with contrived ease. "Thor's people haven't had sex in over a thousand years. Thor's buddy Heimy told us that last year. It's no wonder he's confused." He squarely meets Daniel's demanding gaze and does not flinch from it, ruthlessly squashing the uncomfortable truth that wants to bubble up from somewhere deep inside him. _Doesn't matter what I feel or want. I'm Air Force. Nothing can ever happen._

"Oh, so Thor's confused," Daniel repeats humorlessly. "I see. This morning, you were ready to give up your child to me, let me raise him without you. Without your help and support, your aggravating Simpson-isms, and your unhealthy eating habits. You were ready to voluntarily cut yourself out of your son's life. Why?"

"I'm old enough to be his grandfather--"

"So? Then be his grandfather," Daniel snaps, his irritation bristling all the hair on the back of his neck. "If that title makes you feel better--"

"It's not just that! I've done the dad thing, and I'm clearly not cut out for it!"

Daniel has no intention of soft-pedaling this issue. It was a preexisting condition when they met, and it's too far ingrained in Jack's psyche to try to dig out at this point. "That was an unfortunate accident," Daniel says easily. "You undoubtedly have a list of things you'd do differently if you had the chance." Before Jack can reply, he adds evenly, "Here's your chance."

"You son of a bitch," Jack snarls low.

Daniel tosses it off with a shrug. "Truth hurts." With a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder, he adds, "Thor's going to be back any minute for an answer. Does the child live or die? What's it gonna be?"

"Are you _okay_ with what they did?" Jack asks incredulously.

"I can't say I'm terribly happy about having this situation thrust into our laps this way, but I understand their position. If they'd asked us up front, I might've been anxious for the opportunity. Might even have volunteered to sit where you're sitting. They didn't, so there's little point pursuing that train of thought. There also seems to be something of a time element involved, which means we don't have unlimited hours to argue the pros and cons, as though it --this baby-- were a hypothetical issue. Obviously, the decision's yours."

"God _damn,_ you're being a bastard about this," Jack hisses.

"This situation is only as difficult as you make it," Daniel says simply. "If you emotionally can't abide the fact that you're carrying a child that's genetically part mine, then here's the chance you were looking for this morning to get rid of it. If you're morally opposed to Earth eventually getting access to technologies that could protect us from all the Bad Guys out there, then tell Thor to terminate the pregnancy. If you're ethically opposed to an innocent child being made an unwilling pawn so that a culture can in some small way survive, then--"

"This isn't just UP to me," Jack snarls. Daniel's being more of a dick than usual, and it's really starting to grate. "They played this same trick on you, too."

"Yes, they did, but the contribution's a little uneven, wouldn't you say? I mean, I never even got to enjoy the first part, and I'm not the one with the swollen ankles now. Although," he gives Jack a long assessing look and adds, "it doesn't seem like that'll be a problem for much longer. Now all that's left is the child-rearing part, which," he jerks his arm, so his watch is visible under the BDU sleeve, "as of three hours ago, you weren't willing to do. So." He's rattling off facts here, and trying hard to keep the emotion, if not the snark factor, out of it. He shrugs, for effect. "Your body, your choice. I have no more right to ask you to go through with this than the Asgard did."

Jack digs his thumb into his left eyebrow, mentally gouging out the headache that's formed there. He doesn't want to have to make this decision; it's miles above his pay grade. He'd love to take an order one way or another, but he'll settle for a recommendation, if that's all that's available, but god _damn_ , he doesn't want this on his head.

Or on his conscience.

"I'd like to hear your opinion on this," he says with obviously forced calm. 

Daniel looks at him and then strolls away, his vision skimming each of the shiny gadgets all around the perimeter of the room. Devices which undoubtedly assisted Thor in the creation of the baby they're casually discussing as though it were as disposable as yesterday's newspaper. He purses his lips, shaking his head, folding his arms, committing his vision toward the metal plates that make up the deck of Thor's ship as he paces around it. Closed up tight, because it's killing him to be this cold. "No, I really don't think you do." 

"Inequity of our respective involvement aside," Jack says tightly, "your job on my team has always been to identify the crap the rest of us hardasses don't see--"

"Or don't _want_ to see," Daniel corrects with a raised finger. Jack's eyes have hardened into dark, angry beams, and Daniel is certain the man would shoot him if he were currently armed.

"I'm asking," Jack says with as much calmness as he can muster under the godforsaken circumstances, "for your expert opinion of this fucking SHITHOLE of a situation. I need intel, and I need it ten minutes ago. I need you to do your goddamned _job."_

"My job," Daniel muses, as he continues to circle the perimeter of the room, hands now shoved deeply into the pockets of his BDUs. The glare of the ultra-white lighting makes his uniform appear grayish-purple. Next to Jack's glittering toga attire in this shiny, unreal place, he looks terribly drab and pedestrian, an odd reversal of evolutionary plumage. He comes to rest at the point furthest from the table bed in the center of the room and turns to face its occupant. 

"Am I on the clock here? Are you asking Doctor Jackson, PhD., his opinion of the sociological ramifications of your current state, as well as what effect allowing the delivery to continue will have on the safety and stability of Earth for the foreseeable forever, thanks to the Asgard's sacrifice?" He pauses only briefly, softening the tone of the rest. "Or are you asking _Daniel,_ the father of your baby?"

Jack makes a sound that could've been a strangled sob, if he'd been human, complete with a beating heart, but was probably just the Colonel's throat-clearing of disgust. "Well played, Doctor Jackson," Jack murmurs, looking away. "Well played."

Thor chooses that moment to enter the room. "I must have your decision, O'Neill."

*****

Sam sits at the desk in the MALP room, the diagnostic program open on the computer, but it's no longer holding her interest. She wonders what the hell the Asgard were thinking to have arrived at the conclusion of establishing a protocol to allow a human male to conceive a child. She assumes there's a tie-in to their cloning difficulties, and that the Asgard are now literally _growing_ new carriers for their downloaded consciousnesses, instead of continuing to clone the faulty model. She shudders at the thought. 

But still. Why men? Why grow the fetus inside a male who isn't designed for it? She figures that has to add whole orders of complexity to the process, enough to rule out any kind of efficient mass production. Therefore, this is most likely just the prototype, and successive models will be produced using a more streamlined methodology. It's a brilliant concept, really, once you separate it from all the moral issues...

*****

"I should have my head examined," Jack mutters as Thor bustles around the table from one side to the other, long, nimble fingers flying across Asgardian labeled controls.

"Oh, quit your bitchin', and let the man--" Daniel's eyes flicker toward the small, bulbous-headed alien, and he reconsiders his comment, directing his attention back to the cranky pregnant man on the table. "Let him work, and don't be such a whiner. 

"You realize women have been doing this for thousands of years, right? All over the world, sometimes squatting in rice paddies to push the baby out --alone-- then bundling the infant into a mei tai, and going right back to collecting the crop. And here you are, ex-special ops Colonel, trained out the wazoo to resist all manner of tortures and maltreatment any one of a hundred unfriendly government's militia could throw at you. Seven years going through the stargate --eight if you count that first time, which _I_ sure as hell do-- encountering aliens who poke you and prod you and threaten you and feed you things like roasted mastage that really didn't taste like chicken--I lied, okay? I needed you guys to stand down your obvious aggression, so you wouldn't trigger a massacre, because those Abydonian kids were plenty scared. And anyway, not to mention running for our goddamned lives a coupla times a week from one or another flamboyantly costumed Goa'ulds, and you're telling me some frail, undernourished, third world woman can do what you _can't?"_

"Daniel?" Jack says sweetly.

"Yeah, Jack?"

"Shut the fuck up." Jack's still smiling, but his eyes are shooting daggers.

"You don't have to be nice to me, y'know," Daniel says with a shrug of what he intends to be annoying reasonableness, but is probably closer to a pout instead. "It's not a requirement."

"You don't feel a kid's parents ought to at least _like_ each other?"

"I'm in love with you," Daniel admits gently, holding Jack's attention by pouring out his heart, even though he'd rather be gouging out his own eyes, than laying his soul open this way. "Apparently I have been for years. When I walked into the village on Vis Uban and first saw you, what? Three weeks ago? Four? Has it only been...?" He shakes his head to clear it, because it's yesterday and forever and a baby ago.

"That's what I remembered first, this crashing wave of lust and longing, and all I could do was run to my tent, because it took my breath away. Then you followed me and started babbling about 'you were a member of my team, you're a friend of mine', and I very clearly got the message that my feelings for you weren't returned." He laughs, the bitterness still on his tongue. "When you sent Sam in to talk to me, I thought maybe I'd made a mistake, and it was her... I asked her if there was anything between her and me, because I just couldn't believe this much desire wasn't returned by _some_ body..." 

There are no words for the anguish he felt then, or the hopelessness that fills him now regarding the situation in which he currently finds himself. He's going to be a father in a few minutes, and he's pretty sure the baby's other parent feels nothing but contempt for him.

"Anyway, Sam said no, that we were just really good friends, and it was then that I knew that it _was_ you, and that you didn't want me." He shrugs, like that rejection doesn't still hurt, more so, with the painful irony of the child that binds them together. "I'd have stayed on Vis Uban, rather than have to face you every day, except that when _Teal'c_ came to talk to me, he told me I should just ignore whatever you said, because you were 'the six of an undomesticated equine', and I was needed in the fight against the Goa'uld. So." He shrugs again.

Daniel can't decipher what he sees in Jack's eyes, and he wonders if Jack will ever forgive him for the indignity of having crushed on him this way. "I don't know exactly when I fell in love with you," he continues, trying not to lose himself in the overt sentimentality of his own words, "but it's there, and it's real, and it's something I struggle with every damned day. I can't change how I feel about you," he adds softly, "but I swear, Jack, if this hadn't happened, I never would've told you."

Jack looks completely poleaxed by this information dump, which was why Daniel had done it in the first place, but it's achieved his purpose of distracting Jack for a few minutes, and Thor's nearly done.

Daniel finally takes pity on Jack. "But if it makes you feel any better, I don't actually _like_ you very much right now."

"Oh, excellent," Jack replies with what is clearly sarcastic joy, jumping at this tiny piece of normal banter. "Something we can agree on."

"Really? _You_ don't like you very much right now either?" Daniel says, all big, blue-eyed, blinking innocence. He knows he's good at that.

Jack's eyes narrow dangerously. _"Daniel--"_

"Your son, O'Neill." Thor hands over a small bundle, clean and pink and awake and aware, and wrapped in matching shiny cloth.

Jack's shocked, because thanks to Daniel's obnoxious prattling, he'd had no idea Thor had even _started_ anything yet. He takes the bundle with trembling hands as he feels the head of the table moving him into a more upright position.

"You bastard," Jack mumbles brokenly at the man standing beside the table. Daniel. _His friend._ It's all he can manage to get out before the fucking tears begin to roll down his cheeks, and he transfers his gaze to the trusting pink face in the silver bunting. _A son. Another chance..._ and he feels a stab of disloyalty to the memory of Charlie.

"You're welcome," Daniel says, a grin splitting his face wide as he looks over Jack's shoulder. _Their son. His nose. Jack's chin._ "You make beautiful babies, Jack," he whispers. "Thank you for our son..." 

Just then, the craft is rocked, and Thor winks out.

"What the fuck?" Jack snarls, grasping the baby protectively to his chest with both hands.

"I dunno," Daniel says. "Stay here."

"Don't--" But the man barrels through the swooshy doors at a run, and Jack is alone with the baby. "God damn you," he mutters under his breath, tendrils of fear spiking up the backs of his legs as his heart starts to pound. 

He scrubs his free hand over his face at the embarrassing wetness there, and then swings his feet over the side of the table. Asgard being short, the table was never very high to begin with, so a quick slide and his feet are on the floor. He pauses until the lightheadedness fades from sitting up too fast, and then stands, leaning back against the table edge for support. He's gratified to see that his assets are still covered by the toga arrangement. A hand goes to his middle to find his regime of daily crunches all for naught in the jiggly aftermath _\--goddamn fucking stretch marks--_ of his short pregnancy. He doesn't take time to wonder how Thor got the baby out of him.

The ship rocks again, and Jack is glad he's still braced against something stable. The baby makes a noise of distress, no doubt from the overly tight clench Jack's got him in, like a football he's trying to get over the goal line. "It's okay, buddy," Jack says in as reassuring a tone as he can, tucking the tot further under his arm. "It's _gonna_ be okay," he modifies. He hopes he isn't lying.

He hates being blind and helpless like this. Can't see what's happening, can't fight with a baby in his arms, and he can't put the baby down, because there's nothing to contain him, nothing to prevent him from becoming a projectile the next time they're hit. 

And that's what it feels like, asteroids or energy weapons, is really doesn't matter, they're all just as deadly in a hull breech.

God damn it! Where the hell is Daniel? Where's Thor? He can't just stand here and wait, like some helpless heroine. He starts for the door. One normal stride, and he doubles over in pain. "Oh, crap..." he hisses. It feels like there's a knife going straight up through him, like a pig on a spit, and he remembers Sara tearing, and stitches in uncomfortable places, and _HOW DID THOR GET THE BABY OUT?_

There's no time for checking out the goods, because it's all he can do to keep his feet through the next jolt. Jack doesn't drop the baby, but the small person makes it clear he's not happy.

"Yeah, yeah," Jack snaps at the wailing bundle in his arm. "I get it, all right? I just need to find--"

"You must leave now, O'Neill." 

Thor, master of the understatement, has winked back in behind him. 

"My thoughts exactly," Jack gripes as he turns to face the alien. "Some reason we're not movin'? We outta gas?" It's difficult to be heard over the sound of the baby's complaining cry.

"We are traveling at sublight speed. We cannot enter hyperspace while your baby is on board. I will take this vessel within transport range of Earth so that I may return you and your child there. Only then can I attempt to lead the Replicators away from here, back to the trap we have laid for them. It is my deepest hope that it is not too late. If they have the opportunity to dispatch any blocks toward your galaxy, the fate of the Asgard will be yours as well. " 

Jack doesn't need convincing. "Okay, let's go. Where the hell's Daniel?"

"He is on the bridge, returning fire on the Replicator ship, so that I might transport you to your destination."

Jack's gut fills with dread as he realizes that Daniel's providing covering fire, keeping them busy, so he and the baby can escape. Thor starts messing with the controls on the panel nearest the table, and Jack's angry and frantic in turns so fast, his head's spinning. This is _so_ not a good plan.

"Why couldn't you do the beaming thing from the bridge?"

"Because I must finish the procedure that was interrupted when the automated defense system pulled me away." He turns one last dial, causing a mechanical arm to extend in Jack's direction, then beckons. "You must stand here."

"Why?" Jack asks, moving warily to the requested spot anyway.

"This will return your internal anatomy to its original condition," Thor explains blandly.

"Ah. Good idea." Buh-bye uterus.

"And," he adds as a blue light travels across Jack's body from head to toe, "give you the ability to fully care for the child for many years to come." 

Jack doesn't like the sound of that. "Fully... what?" 

The light stops, the arm retracts, and Thor blinks up at Jack. "You may now provide for all of this child's needs."

Jack watches the equipment reset, and the size of that bad feeling in his gut has just doubled. "I... what? Wait--"

But Thor has turned back to the panel and is turning more controls, sliding one of those flat egg-looking thingies across the smooth surface. He glances back over one skinny gray shoulder, dark eyes fixed on Jack's face. "Farewell, O'Neill. The legacy of the Asgard race is now in your hands." 

As the blinding light envelopes him, Jack calls out, "Wait! You're sending Daniel right after, right? RIGHT? TH--!"

"--OR!" Jack bellows at the top of his lungs. The infirmary staff is startled by his arrival, but no less so than he himself. "God DAMN it, you beady-eyed little sonofabitch!" he yells. "You send Daniel right down here, right this minute, and I am not fucking KIDDING!"

The baby is terrified by the ruckus, or the effect of being transported, or both, and reports same at a blood-curdling volume, which Jack cannot afford to notice because _damn_ it, he's left a man behind. Scowling, he scans the room as he turns in a slow circle, looking for the telltale flash that would indicate imminent transport of his missing archeologist. There is none, despite the fact that Jack's screaming for it inside his head. 

He stayed. Jack knows he stayed to help Thor lead the bugs away from Earth. And Jack is livid, barely able to breathe for the fury welling up inside of him. He clenches his teeth, keeping all the anguish and fear inside. _God damn you, Daniel! You get your insufferable, over-educated, martyred ass down here! Don't you dare leave me to deal with this alone!_

He knows Daniel stayed because he talked Jack into keeping the baby, but Jack hadn't given him any sign that he --Daniel-- was a wanted part of the equation at all. Just the opposite, in fact.

Daniel has no reason to come home.

"Jodi!" Janet snaps with all the authority in her diminutive frame. "Go rig up something we can use as a crib. Jason, help me with the Colonel." 

Fraiser arrives in the peripheral vision of one of Jack's circular sweeps, and with the part of Jack's brain that isn't consumed with fear for his missing friend, he notices that she's _not happy._

"Give me the baby, Colonel," Janet says sternly. "You're scaring it."

"I get that," Jack snaps, "We're _all_ having a lousy day. You may not have noticed, but we're MISSING SOMEONE!"

"Right this minute, sir, I just want the baby."

Jack's shocked aware by her calm, and he looks down at the bundle mashed tightly to his chest. He loosens his grip, and the tiny face comes into view, flushed from howling. Its cries sound like a braying donkey, and suddenly, that's all he can hear in the bustling room, the warbling bray and then the hiccup-gasp of the intake of breath needed to power another howl.

"I know, buddy," Jack mutters. "I'm scared too..."

"Let me have the child, Colonel," Janet says gently, "while you have a seat over there."

He hands the baby off to Janet with a mixture of relief and regret and allows the orderly to help him up onto the exam bed. _This is so bad. So fucking bad. Where the hell's Daniel?_ Jack feels the wave of emotion hit, and it knocks the wind out of him. He's never wanted to cry this badly _in his life,_ and holding it back is taking all his concentration.

And then Janet's back in front of him, and he can't hear the baby's bawling anymore. "What can you tell me?" she asks sharply.

"Where's the kid?" Jack demands, eyes on fire from the need to shed the tears that are filling his chest, preventing him from actually drawing breath.

"Jodi's with him in the next room doing a prelim, so he's in good hands. When we're done here, I'm going to call a neonatal specialist from the Academy Hospital to come check him out, but by the sound of it, that's a healthy, if unhappy, newborn. Can you tell me what happened when Thor took you?" 

Jack struggles to get up, but Janet's hand is on his chest and some grim-looking, hulking, _beast_ of a whitecoat has his lower legs pinned. 

"I need-- let me _see_ him!" Jack hears the panic in his tone, feels the tremor in his words, but he can't seem to find his Colonel voice right now.

Realizing her patient isn't going to be able to relax until he sees that the baby --apparently a boy-- is okay, Janet turns away from him to call for the nurse, and notices her hand is wet. "Bring him back in here as soon as he's cleared," she adds, turning back to her adult patient. 

The silvery blanket thing Jack is wearing is damp all across his chest. She smiles reassuringly and shifts sideways, trying to block his line of sight so she can catch his eye, maybe calm him down. "She'll bring the baby to you as soon as she does a cursory exam and a quick x-ray on him. You know the drill. How about we get you cleaned up before he gets here?"

"I'm fine," Jack says tersely, attempting to see around her.

"You do seem to be quite recovered, considering," she allows. "Still. Let's get you out of that wet garment before you start to feel chilled."

"Wet--?" He looks down at himself, at the dark, spreading stain across his midsection. "What the hell...?"

"I'll take it from here, Jason," Janet says, dismissing the orderly and pulling the privacy curtains.

She uses Jack's distraction to unwind the cloth from its toga-state, and is not surprised to find puffy, reddened nipples oozing with fluid that is quickly matting his chest hair. "Nothing to worry about," she says lightly, as though lactating men arrive via alien beam in her infirmary every day.

She dries the mess with a handful of gauze, which is all that's handy. She'll have to remember to send someone shopping for baby supplies as soon as she gets her new patients settled, but first, there's the matter of the crying baby and the leaking... mother? He'll need a shower, after. "Perfectly normal physiological response."

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" Jack demands with the Colonel voice he'd temporarily misplaced.

From outside the curtain, Jodi's voice is soft, in deference to the just quieted infant in her arms. "Doctor? I have someone who'd like to see your patient."

Janet reaches around the edge of the curtain to take the child from her. "X-ray clear?" At the nurse's nod, she continues softly, "Try and give us a little privacy if you can." Then she turns and hands the child to the Colonel. "Hold him here," she says, "No, a little lower so that he can--"

The infant's rooting reflex is on target, and as his open mouth brushes across Jack's now-engorged nipples, Jack panics. "No, no, no, no, NO!" he insists, holding the baby aloft at arm's length.

"Shhh," Janet orders. "We just got him calmed down. Babies respond to the m- parent's moods, Colonel, so I need you to be calm and quiet and quit scaring the poor thing."

"I AM calm," Jack says through gritted teeth. "He just tried to--"

"Lower your _voice,_ Colonel," Janet hisses dangerously.

He hears the command in her words and clamps his jaw closed. This seems to satisfy her.

"There are a lot of personnel in the infirmary at the moment," she says softly, "Jodi's trying to clear them out, but in the meantime, you'll probably want to keep this quiet." He nods once sharply, an indication --she hopes-- of his willingness to be discrete and take direction. Having gotten so close to the comfort he seeks, the baby is quite put out to be denied and is clearly winding up for another aural assault. 

"Your baby's hungry and scared," Janet observes, "and both of those problems can be solved pretty easily."

Jack glares up at her as she raises the head of his bed a little. "Clearly, Thor intended that you be able to feed this baby yourself," she adds softly. "Just relax and let nature take its course."

There are no words for how wrong this is, and he does his best to assert his command authority silently, using only his tightly clenched jaw and flaring nostrils. She doesn't seem to be the least bit intimidated, which isn't surprising, considering he's laying here half naked with a baby attempting to chow down on his --god damn it, lookit that!-- _Leaking. Nipples._

Janet's moving his arm now, to get him to support the baby's head at a much lower angle on his body than is the natural dad-stance he remembers, and when the infant latches on, he's sure the kid came with a full set of _sharpened teeth,_ because holyfuckingmotherof _GOD_ this hurts!

"Breathe," she instructs him calmly.

_"You--!"_

She places one hand on the back of Jack's head and the other cups the baby's scalp, and she can feel the soft spot move with every strong beat of his heart. "Believe me, Colonel, I would if I could." She knows she sounds wistful, and she lets him hear this personal pain, because she also knows that he's scared and off-balance and pumped full of hormones, and he needs someone who understands. Ten years ago, she'd have given her right arm to be able to conceive a child. That it's doable through alien technology, when their own level of expertise can't swing it, is an irony she'll allow herself to cry about later, in private.

The agony in Jack's chest has dulled to a ragged warmth, and a peaceful feeling washes over him as fluid begins to pour from both nipples, soaking him and choking the baby into a sputtering fit, but he won't let go now that he has the only thing he knows to want.

"What the--" Jack tries to pull the baby away so the kid doesn't drown, but he's apparently got jaws of steel.

"You have to break the suction first," Janet instructs, slipping her little finger into the baby's mouth next to Jack's nipple. Baby loses traction and the latch fails, and Jack's poor, abused nipple is free, thin bluish milk still flowing. She sits the baby up, supporting its front with one hand as she gently rubs his back with the other. There's a modest burp, and the baby opens his mouth to root again.

"Oh, no ya don't--"

"He's not finished," she says with a smile. "He'll let you know when he's had enough."

"Oh, fer--"

"You might want to switch off to the other breast, though, to let this one rest. Here," she says as he starts to transfer the baby to the other arm. "Let's dry you off a bit first."

He'd complain about her use of the term for the feminine mammary gland, but realizes he's hardly in a position to get picky about semantics at this point. He's leaking prodigiously, it's running down his belly, and now he's sitting in a goddamned wet spot. "This isn't funny," he growls. Then he sees the single tear she tries to hide, and bites back the rest of his snarky remark.

"I think it's beautiful, sir," she whispers.

He relaxes his shoulders as the baby -- he's named him _Jaws_ , in the privacy of his own thoughts-- has a little nosh on the right side of his chest, and he experiences the calming flood of endorphins from the letdown reflex. He remembers Sara's occasionally blissed-out expression, and he _gets_ it now. 

"Under the circumstances, Janet," he says softly as he lets his head fall back against the pillow, "you should probably call me Jack."

*****

Daniel continues to alter their heading to counter the actions of the Replicator vessel with one hand, as his gaze skates across the panel in front of him. He's duplicating the movements Thor had hurriedly shown him, in the hope that his human responses would be just unpredictable enough to keep the mechanical bugs off guard. Now he's eying the controls, hoping to find something that'll let him talk to Thor back in the lab. The Replicator ship has cleaved and split in two, and this can't be a good thing.

He moves a control with his free hand, hoping it's the one that'll open whatever passes for a comm system on this damned ship, and hears, _"...gard race is now in your hands."_

_"Wait! You're sending Daniel right after, right? RIGHT? THO--!"_

His stomach clenches, but he tells himself that they're gone. They're safe, and that's what matters. 

"Thor!" he yells. "Their ship's split in two. One piece has veered off--" And then Thor is there beside him, and he feels silly for yelling.

Thor moves some dials and observes in his unhurried monotone, "The trajectory of that one will take them straight to your galaxy."

"You have to _do_ something," Daniel says with some alarm. Thor told him all they could do was engage, keep them busy, that Asgard weapons couldn't affect much damage to a ship made entirely of replicator material. Keeping them busy meant that for as long as they were studying Thor's ship, trying to find a way to defeat the shields, they wouldn't get past them as they moved within transport range of Earth, but that was all. Once the Replicators determined that they couldn't gain control of the ship, or that it had nothing they wanted, they'd head elsewhere. Daniel had essentially been toying with them, and they'd finally gotten bored.

"As I told you, my weapons will have no effect on either vessel. It would be pointless to pursue them, because in my absence, the greater mass of them presently located near Halla will not be able to be destroyed. I must attempt to lure this group back to the rendezvous point, where the Asgard fleet awaits my return. We can hope that those that broke off will not find sufficient raw materials in order to replicate before they reach your planet."

"That's--" Daniel bites off. This isn't in any way acceptable, and he feels the anger at this intolerable situation building within him. He'll do whatever it takes to protect his family, but going down with the ship for no reason? There has to be another way.

"Do you have anything-- shuttles, deathgliders, anything like that?"

"All Asgard ships are equipped with sampling pods--"

"How many?"

"Six. But--"

"Fine," Daniel snaps, looking around the bridge, trying to guess which corridor will get him there. "Which way?"

"The sample pods are not designed for someone as large as yourself, nor are they jump-capable. Additionally, they have no weapons and only minimal shielding. I do not see--"

"Can't the engines be rigged to explode?" he asks impatiently. Thor just blinks slowly, and Daniel thinks he can see when the alien catches the meaning and the implication of the stupid plan he's suggesting. "Give me some of the bait you were gonna use--"

"I can configure the engines to overload remotely, but the timing of the detonation must be precise, in order to ensure that all of the replicator blocks are caught in the resulting concussive wave."

"I don't supposed you can send one out after them and detonate it from here?"

"No, one is too small; this will require all of them. And the optimum explosive capability would be achieved only if the detonation were to occur at the moment of impact. Any indication in the pods' programming of a self-destruct intention would alert them, and they would disable it."

"Figures," Daniel mutters under his breath. "How do I--" Before the words have left his mouth, he finds himself seated inside a cramped compartment on a Lilliputian ship in what is probably the landing bay for the sampling pods. He shifts his long legs into a more comfortable fold, looks around at the lights and indicators, and calls out, "You know I can't fly this thing, right?" assuming that Thor will hear him. 

The vehicle lifts, and Daniel feels the pull of acceleration as all six of the vehicles leave the mothership in pursuit of the Replicators. He can no longer see them visually on the forward monitor, but on the outer edges of the readout below it, they show up as a single blue triangle. He figures a cluster of green squares represent the sample pods, and he presumes he's the one in the center, which is glowing red to indicate the bait that will attract the enemy's attention, once he gets close enough for them to detect it.

"I have configured the pods to track the Replicator vessel. You are traveling at the maximum speed of which they are capable. Since you have only minimal shielding, the instant the Replicators perceive the neutronium enticement that I have placed aboard your pod, they will converge upon it, intent on consuming it. I have configured the engines of all six craft to implode on your signal, channeling the explosive force toward the center pod, which should maximize the concussive potential."

Daniel looks around him, wondering which control to use. "How do I give the signal?"

"The control lever to your right; grip it tightly." Daniel does so, and Thor continues, "The device is now armed. As soon as you release it--"

"Deadman switch," Daniel interrupts.

"It is all I can do with the limited time available."

"Should do the trick," Daniel says tightly. "Can you tell how far behind them I am?"

"That readout is to your left. Are you able to translate--"

"Yeah, I got it." About five minutes. Way too much time.

"I must leave you now."

"That's okay, go." On the aft monitor, Daniel can see the mothership trigger the hyperspace window in preparation for the jump. "Do your thing. I'm good."

"You are indeed, Doctor Jackson. If you are successful, you will have saved your planet and your race."

"Yeah," he says wistfully. "Not really doin' it for them." The speck in the monitor is getting larger, and Daniel knows he's nearly out of time. Thor's ship jumps, and his group of Replicators slide through the window after it. The hyperspace window closes, leaving Daniel alone in a tiny Asgard pod, chasing a surreal-looking vessel made out of human-form Replicators like Reese. 

The control in his hand is sweaty, and his entire arm shakes with the force of squeezing the device as the Replicator ship begins to slow, filling his screen. They've sensed the neutronium and are doubling back to gobble it up, and him with it.

His death will take them out, and his family will be safe. He figures that's an equitable trade. He hopes the vacuum will get him first, but he figures it isn't likely. 

He spares a single thought that what he and Thor are doing amounts to intentional mass murder of a sentient, if evil, race; he holds it up against his internal barometer and finds that he's okay with it. There was a time he'd have argued --with Jack, probably-- to find another way. But this enemy is relentless and unreasoning, and apparently there's no limit to what Daniel will do for someone he cares about. Someone he _loves._ Someone he _made._

 _Christ,_ that was a beautiful baby...

He's pretty sure the act of deliberate genocide kicks him off the Ascension track, but that's okay, too. It wasn't really all it was cracked up to be, and it's not like there's any reason for him to try to find his way back to the mortal plane anyway. Jack and their son will do just fine without him; he has to believe that. 

He's close enough now that he can see the outline of the individual blocks that make up the matrix around and between the recognizably human shapes, the zigzag pattern they make when several are perfectly aligned, and he feels the pod lurch as the Replicators attach to the outer edge of the pod cluster and begin to eat through the hull. He closes his eyes and wonders what Jack will name their son. 

He hears the relentless mechanical gnawing and knows it's time. And as Daniel releases his grip on the control that will end his life, his last thought is one of gratitude, that at least he was honest with Jack about how he feels. He has no regre--

*****

"Can you tell us anything else, Colonel?" Hammond asks quietly.

They've rigged one of the computer carts into a bassinet of sorts, where Jack can keep a sharp eye on Jaws. The baby is now sleeping peacefully near the briefing room window, oblivious to the voices around him. It isn't that he doesn't trust anyone else to watch the kid, exactly, it's just... 

Oh, who the fuck does he think he's kidding? He needs the baby near him pretty much all the time. He's been a Mom for nearly forty-eight hours, and he's slept maybe five of those. The rest of the time, he's either nursing him or just laying there admiring him as he sleeps in the crook of his arm.

He takes a moment to wonder when the thought of him nursing a baby stopped sounding strange.

Yes, the big, tough Colonel, who survived two wars and more military incursions than he can count over the course of his twenty-four year career, not to mention dealing with alien threats of various descriptions, has been brought to his knees by a six and a half pound baby. He'd be embarrassed, if he weren't so in love with the little tyke.

_He has Daniel's eyes..._

Jack sighs. He's reported everything he can think of from the short time they were on Thor's ship. And he's proud of the fact that the hormones that are allowing the miracle of feeding a baby that grew inside him, and which are keeping him on the knife's edge between just barely functioning and utter despair are, for the moment, under control.

There's been no sign whatsoever of either Daniel or Thor, and Jack figures when he and Jaws retreat to their assigned VIP quarters for the next feeding, he'll allow himself a moment to really _feel_ that fact.

He sighs again, hanging onto his control, denial... whatever, and faces Hammond.

"Daniel stayed to cover my retreat, General. Mine and his." He jerks a thumb at the mock bassinet and puts _name baby_ on his mental list of things to do soon. "It's as simple as that. I didn't know he was gonna do it. We hadn't talked about any kind of plan, because one minute Thor's handing me a baby, and the next, the Replicators are shakin' the house down."

"And you don't have any way of knowing whether or not Doctor Jackson's attempts to hold off the Replicators were successful, or if we should be battening down the hatches?"

"No, sir," Jack reports quietly. He feels he's failed somehow, for not bringing back critical intel while he was busy giving birth. "But I can tell you this-- Daniel would've happily given his life for this baby." If the others notice that his voice breaks, they have the compassion not to acknowledge it.

"Daniel Jackson understood that the immense knowledge which this child possesses, will one day provide protection for this world," Teal'c rumbles, hands folded respectfully in front of him, making the slight head-bow look remarkably like a benediction.

"It's more than that, Teal'c," Carter says. "I was speaking with him a couple of days ago, before we had any idea of the Asgard legacy, and he was making all sorts of plans for daycare and furnishings, maybe moving somewhere that had a yard. I think he genuinely wanted to make sure this baby had a stable, loving home."

"I believe you're correct, Major," Hammond says. "I still have the paperwork on my desk removing him from offworld rotation. He said he couldn't put himself at risk by being on a field unit any longer."

It's all Jack can do to sit impassively, while they all talk around the fact that less than two days ago he'd been ready to sign over all his parental rights to the kid who now owns his heart. And yet Daniel, who obviously and vocally _wanted_ the baby, isn't here. When the tears threaten again, he bites the inside of his cheek, because god _damn_ this situation's fucked up...

"What will happen to the child, General Hammond?" Teal'c asks. "Considering the knowledge he will eventually possess, is there anywhere on your world where he will be truly safe from those who would attempt to gain control of this information?"

Hammond shakes his head with the weight of protecting this remarkable individual from threats he sees coming from every quarter. "For the moment, Teal'c, only the four of us in this room know that the Asgard decided to gift us with their legacy in this way. I haven't even told my superiors, because frankly, I don't know who I can trust with this situation. We're less than three months from the primaries, and with no incumbent, the field's wide open. If Kinsey or someone like him wins the nomination..." He wants nothing more than for the Asgard to miraculously show themselves, so he can hand this problem off to them. He's looking at a charge of treason if this somehow comes out, and that's the _best_ case scenario.

"With respect to SGC personnel, there were six individuals who witnessed Colonel O'Neill beam into the infirmary yesterday holding a baby. My guess is that information's all over the base at this point. With the exception of Doctor Fraiser and Lieutenant Blanchard however, none of those individuals understand the child's unusual parentage, and we want to keep it that way. I have elected not to share the 'Asgard Legacy' angle with Doctor Fraiser, or any of her staff at this time, since I don't believe having this piece of information will make any difference in the medical care the child receives at this point in his development.

"Since news of the infant's existence has escaped containment, the best we can hope for is damage control to explain the presence of a child here at the SGC. For the record the story is this: Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson were on a top secret, Asgard-assisted S&R for victims of a Goa'uld attack on a friendly planet. The child is the only survivor, much as Cassandra was on Haanka, and Doctor Jackson is listed as MIA from that operation at this point in time. I felt it was wise to stick as close to the truth as possible, and in a way, this baby really _is_ the last surviving Asgard." 

Jack bites down on the urge to blurt out, _I can see the headline now, Sir-- I Had An Alien Love Child!!--_ because he imagines it's important to at least _appear_ to be sane, and he figures he's in a world of hurt right now, because there's really very little about this situation that feels even _remotely_ rational, seeing as how he's pretty sure he's carrying around a Happy Meal that's woefully short of potato product, and if he ever needed a goddamned cigarette, _now's the time._

Hammond turns to his right. "Major Carter, I'll need you to help flesh out our story by providing the designation of a suitable planet that could potentially support this scenario."

"Yes, sir," she says softly. 

"At this point I don't think I need to remind any of you that the secret of this child's origins must be guarded closely, for all our sakes. If any of this were to get out, it would be a very bad thing for all concerned. For now, Colonel O'Neill and his baby will be enjoying the hospitality of one of our VIP rooms until I can figure out the most appropriate course of action moving forward." 

He glances around the table at the solemn and grim faces of three quarters of his premier team and adds as gently as he can, "I'll leave the organization of the memorial service for Doctor Jackson to the three of you as you see fit. Dismissed."

***** 

"Sir!" 

Carter's jogging up behind him, and Jack curses the fact that the damned cart has lousy cornering ability. He slows to a stop to let her catch up and considers pinching the baby's toe to make him squeal so he'll have an excuse not to have to talk to her. This morning's been a bitch of a day already. He needs some time out of the public eye something fierce, and she's gonna say something to make him cry; he's sure of it.

"Whatcha need, Carter?"

"Sir, I was thinking--"

"I'd be shocked if you ever stopped."

"Yes, sir. Did Thor say anything about what sector of space you were in at the time?"

He starts walking again, and as she lengthens her stride to keep up, he grinds his teeth to keep from barking at her to go the fuck away. He wonders if his shorter-than-usual temper is some kind of postpartum girl-thing and he adds, _talk to Doc about Midol_ to his ever-lengthening list of things to do really soon.

"Nope. I got the impression we weren't all that far from the Milky Way considering how quickly he was able to zip over here to set us down, but I have no idea what that translates to in time or distance traveled. He was headed to the place where the time-dilation thingy was. That's all I know." 

"Yes, sir, Othalla. Third planet in the Halla system. Did he say what was wrong with the device?"

"Like I told Hammond, he used the term 'escaping', but I didn't bother to ask for specifics," he says tightly. "Does it really matter?"

"Well, it's a long shot, but assuming that Thor had to drop you and then leave the Milky Way fast in order to get the Replicators to follow him back to Othalla instead of coming here, it's possible he dropped out of hyperspace just long enough to set Daniel on a habitable planet between here and there."

She looks proud of her reasoning, and he was right; this discussion is heading straight into teary territory.

"Then why the hell hasn't he called?" Jack snaps under his breath, coming to a halt and turning to confront her. "Or come walking through that gate?" He waves an all-encompassing arm, the arc of which describes the galaxy in which they reside and its environs. "We've got GDOs sprinkled around out there like breadcrumbs. He could gate to one the planets on the safe list everybody memorizes, or the Alpha site, and contact us from there."

Her eyes have that steely glint that he knows means she's undaunted by his flawless logic. "That presumes he has a way to get there."

"Thor's gonna drop him off on a planet _with no gate?"_

"If he thought he'd be able to get back to him after--"

"Carter, it was a fuckin’ suicide mission!" he barks in a harsh whisper. They shouldn't be talking about this in the corridor, and it's really hard to convey the depth of his outrage without actually bellowing, or breaking into sobs, or both, which would be bad. "Thor knew he was never getting back from it; that's why he gave Little Thor Junior over here all the Asgard brains!"

That seems to stun her for a moment, but it doesn't stop her, unfortunately, and after gathering up her shattered theory, she launches again. "I know it's a needle in a haystack, sir, but--"

"It sure as hell is, Carter!" he bites off, turning back down the corridor toward safety and escape from her brand of reasonable madness. He has his own to wallow in right now.

"Does that mean you don't want me to even try?" she calls after him.

He stops again, glancing down at the boy who is miraculously still asleep, and grinds his teeth to try and get his increasingly fragile shit back together. "I'm saying," he says as reasonably as he can, "that Hammond can't justify the manpower."

"I'll do it on my own time, like I did when you were stuck on Edora." She's caught up to him again, and he can feel the frustration coming off her in waves. He wishes briefly that he could care about her feelings right now. Or about anything other than his own fucked up life. 

"I've never told anyone this," she admits quietly, "but I nearly gave up, more than once. It just seemed so impossible..."

He wants to say, _thank god you didn't._ What slips out is, "Why didn't you?" He regrets the words the minute they're uttered, because really, he should've fucking known.

"Daniel wouldn't let me," she says intently. "Every time I got discouraged, he'd drag me up by my bootstraps and get me refocused. He kept me going for every one of the one hundred and fourteen days you were MIA." She doesn't say _because he loved you,_ because she can't possibly know that, but Jack hears it anyway and it makes him want to slap her.

She's glaring at him. He knows this because, although he can't make himself look at her, the side of his face feels sunburned from the heat of her barely controlled anger. "He's a better person than I am," he admits softly, gaze raking across the child Thor made, who seems to look a little more like Daniel with every passing hour.

"I don't believe that. He's a more honest one, maybe."

He shakes his head, utterly refusing to go there with her. "Why aren't you asking Hammond for the go ahead?"

"Because sometimes talking things through with you gives me a... different perspective. And..." the pause is significant and weighty, "because you're still my CO."

"That's only a formality, Carter." He resumes his trek, taking a left down the corridor their VIP suite is on, hoping she'll have the decency to drop it and let him have a little peace. She doesn't, and when he swipes his card, gaining entrance, she's right there beside him. 

"Hammond won't relieve you of duty," she says with certainty as she closes the door behind them. The _Jack_ is implied in the cadence of her speech, and he finds he doesn't care about keeping that distance anymore. There's so much that just doesn't matter now that he has Jaws; the damned baby's upset the natural order of his entire fucking universe.

"He'll have to figure out what to do with the two of us soon," he says, hearing the finality of it in his voice. "We can't stay here indefinitely." 

He pushes the pseudo-crib next to the bed, and then sits down heavily right beside it as Jaws slumbers on. 

"He can never let us up top. NID'd be on us in a heartbeat, wanting to know why Colonel O'Neill retired to play stay-at-home dad with an alien baby. We'll be watched, just like Janet and Cassie are. And if Hammond's right, and Kinsey gets anywhere near the Presidency..." He shakes his head dismally at the thought and reaches out to smooth the swirl of dark blond hair on his son's tiny head, just to have the contact. "He'll find a reason to take him and have him tested..." 

He finally tears his eyes away from the baby and looks her square in the eye. "Can't let that happen. Hell," he waves an arm toward where he imagines NORAD's front door to be. "I can't even try to be selfless and give him up for adoption to someone unconnected to the SGC, because _some_ day he'll realize that he's the last surviving Asgard --and who the hell knows what form _that_ realization will take-- and he'll be in danger anyway."

"Offworld?" she says in a small voice, like it's the first time that option's occurred to her.

"I can't really see any way around it," he admits with a shrug.

They'd let him out long enough to go to his house to pack a bag and check his mail, but he'd had an armed escort to do it. He'd dragged them by Daniel's to feed his damned fish while he was outside. He'd taken the liberty of emptying out Daniel's fridge while he was there, and on the way out the door, he snagged the couple of team photographs he'd given Daniel to help him get his memory back after Jonas finally left. He figures someday the kid will want to know what his other parent looked like, and that's all Jack will have to show him.

He's pretty sure he's seen the last of both of their homes. He adds, _leave cabin to Sara_ to his list of stuff to do before he leaves, because really, there's no one else.

"You shouldn't have to give up your world," she says grimly. 

His world. What's left for him here? An ex-wife who'll never be more than politely cordial to him, which he knows is far better than he deserves, and a headstone marking where his son --his _first_ son-- lies in the cold, hard ground, due to Jack's own negligence, and... Daniel, who isn't here anyway. Simpsons, he thinks. He'll miss the Simpsons.

He doesn't think he's allowed to claim any kind of relationship with Daniel, not even 'friend', because despite his pathetically sad and highly theoretical musings over the last year while the man was all glowy, about 'respect' being just another word for love, and the feeling that he and Daniel had a kind of marriage already, the fact remains that when the going got tough, and Jack was staring those laser blue, tell-me-the-truth eyes right in the face, he had an attack of hetero-freak and simply chickened out, leaving the man high and dry and with his heart swinging in the breeze. Daniel tried to hide it, but he was hurt; Jack was able to feel it in the air between them. Jack thinks denial may be the cruelest lie of all.

He shrugs. "If Daniel was here... I dunno." They might be able to live a life on the run if there were two of them, one of them watching the perimeter at all times, the other keeping an eagle eye on the baby, but he's pretty sure he can't do what it would take, all alone and saddled with a newborn. And in the cosmic toss-up between the SGC and protecting _Jaws, Legacy of the Asgard,_ Uncle Sam loses in a landslide.

"I just can't accept that we've lost him again so soon after getting him back," Carter says sadly. "That just seems so... _wrong."_

"Unless... unless that's why they descended him in the first place," Jack replies quietly as the chilling thought begins to form in his mind.

"What?"

Jack nods to the pseudo-crib's occupant. "They sent Daniel back to make _him."_

"Oh my god," Carter gasps, eyes wide. "The Asgard couldn't do that. Could they?"

"Connections," Jack says with a shrug and an upward swirl of his finger. He looks back down at his son _\--their son--_ and is overcome with a swell of protectiveness and love that sends his heart thumping in his chest. 

"If they'd done it the other way," he murmurs, imagining a heavily pregnant Daniel struggling up and out of a briefing room chair, "it'd be Daniel sitting here." He purses his lips and, after reconstructing the last forty-eight hours in his head, he comes to the whispered conclusion, "Shoulda been."

"No," Carter insists, a hand on his arm, gripping him tight. "This baby deserves two parents. You should _both_ be here."

But he can see it, now that the thought's been put out there. Perfect plan, perfectly constructed. And if Oma was behind the decension-with-amnesia, then maybe Daniel's supposed feelings for Jack were ones she put there and weren't real at all, merely a mirror of what Jack'd been feeling since right after Kelowna. He isn't surprised at how that makes him feel, heavy and sad.

"They didn't send him back to us, Carter," Jack says with grim certainty. "They just put him out to stud." He remembers Daniel's face as he looked at the baby for the first time. _Thank you for our son..._ he'd said, voice full of wonder. God damn those ascended bastards!

Jack tugs on his baggy BDU jacket, as a distraction against the waterworks he feels coming on. As a concession to Janet's matronly insistence, he's wearing two layers of t-shirt to deal with the leakage problem. He already feels like something out of _Gone With the Wind,_ and there's no fucking _way_ he's putting on a nursing bra with helpful disposable pads.

Apparently, either Jaws smells the milk Jack feels starting to flow, or he senses that the mean lady is going to make mommy cry, and he starts to stir. Frustrated that his little neck can't hold up his huge newborn head yet, he wails, and Jack takes it as the saving grace it is. 

"Hey, little fella," he says softly as he lifts the tot from the makeshift crib with hands that remember this dance. The baby wibbles his lower lip into a pout that is painfully reminiscent of his other parent, and Jack's tired of trying to hold back the crushing tide of emotion he feels welling up within him. "Do you mind?" he says with a glance in Carter's direction. "It's apparently lunchtime."

"Yes, sir," she says gently. "I'll go get started on that scanning program."

"You do that, Carter," Jack says with as much of the Colonel's voice as he can find in this pit of angst and sadness in which he finds himself. "If anybody can find him, you can."

"Yes, sir." He sees that she's suitably encouraged, and he feels that his duty as her CO --former CO, because he's really ready for that part of his life to be done-- has been fulfilled.

He hears her closing the door behind him as he crosses to the makeshift dresser-changing table. He quickly changes the little paper diaper Blanchard stocked him up with making yet another mental note, _thank Blanchard profusely, maybe with flowers,_ because he remembers cloth diapers and this is a definite improvement. As he gets the baby re-swaddled, he's struck with sharp gratitude, tinged with sadness, at how easily these rusty skills are coming back to him. _Thanks, Charlie..._

Locking the door, he strips to the waist and settles on the bed on his side with the ravenous infant. Wincing as the baby achieves a solid latch on his tender nipple, Jack wonders if Daniel's where Charlie is, and he finds that thought strangely comforting.

He bunches the pillow underneath his head to get comfortable. "So," he says to the greedily nursing infant lying beside him. "Thanks for the reprieve there, buddy. Nice timing. She means well, but there's no way in hell I wanna have that particular conversation with her. I mean, everything--"

_"My god, they're so beautiful together..."_

_"I have fulfilled your request. You can see that O'Neill and the child have come to no harm. We must go now. Our presence here disturbs the balance of the natural order since you are no longer of this plane or the next. We must complete the journey."_

_"Just another minute..."_

_"Why do you torment yourself this way? Surely--"_

_"Shhhh, will you? What's your damned rush? Is there somewhere you need to be?"_

"--happened so fast that I'm just not sure about..." Jack pauses. "Okay, that's... not strictly true. I'm sure it's just... well... I didn't tell him because there wasn't any time, y'see..." He sighs deeply, the weight of the lie too heavy to bear in front of this child that's somehow --freakishly-- a part of them both. "Actually, no, that's pretty much a lie too," he admits sadly. "Things didn't start going to shit up there until after Thor-- well, after you were born. Before that, there was plenty of time for me to have said something, and I would've, if I'd have known he felt--" 

He snaps his jaw shut and takes another deep breath through his nose and lets it out slowly. This damned baby's more efficient than any interrogation technique he's ever been subjected to, bar none.

"Okay, here it is. You're old man's a coward, kid, simple as that. I love him. There, y'happy?" The baby nurses on, gripping the end of Jack's finger so hard, his nail beds are white. Somehow, Jack realizes the kid's feeling his tension, so he makes a conscious decision to release as much of it as he can.

"Sorry. I don't know why I'm dumping all this crap on you. It's not like you can understand me." He softens his tone and reduces the volume to a whisper. "And none of this is your fault, y'hear me? This thing with your dad --your _other_ dad-- is kinda confusing. And yeah, I know it's easy to say I love him when he's not here. That's the coward part." He frowns, working it out in his head, letting the baby hear the sound of his voice as he tries to make some kind of peace with the crushing realization that-- good intentions over the course of this last lonely year be damned-- he had a miracle in his hands and blew it. He missed his chance to correct the mistake he made when he sat there and watched Daniel die without saying a goddamned word about how he really felt.

"I lied..." he says slowly, not even trying to stop the welling of pain and regret that fills his gut, because he deserves every morsel of that pain, and then some. "I lied, because I was afraid."

Jack lets that admission float out there on its own, unmoored by excuses of any kind. Lets it echo inside his head like a ricocheting bullet. Allows the pain of it to release the tears he's been holding back for two days. And while this brand new life nurses sustenance from his body, his cheeks become wet as he sheds what feels like years of pain.

"God damn it," he finally sniffs after some minutes, only marginally in control, even now. Fucking hormones. It feels cleansing, to finally release all the grief he's held in for so long, but it's hell on the sinuses.

Scrubbing a wrist against his dripping nose, he sniffs again.

"The man makes me crazy, kid. All the time. Seriously, from day _one._ It's like every damned thing's a _challenge_ with him, and I have to be on my guard every single minute, or he'll slip something by me, and I'm supposed to be in command, for cryin' out loud. People depend on me. I can't afford to show weakness or favoritism of any kind, y'know? Especially those kinds of feelings, they're the greatest weakness of 'em all. Make me wanna let him do dangerous, stupid stuff with just a blink of those damnable blue eyes. 

"And now..." He shakes his head sadly as he strokes the tiny cheek with the tip of the finger Jaws finally released, and the regret hangs heavy all around him, loading down his heart until he can't breathe and his voice is barely a whisper now. "Damn it, now it's too fucking late. I'm sorry, baby. It's my fault your daddy's not here for you. If I'd spoken up, given him any indication at all, maybe he'd be here with us right now..."

_Daniel bends low, right up near the beloved face. If he were corporeal, he'd be weeping tears of joy because this is everything he's ever wanted, but it's nothing he can do anything about in this crappy in-between state of being. He straightens, still facing Jack where he lies nursing their son._

_"Descend me now," he says firmly. When nothing happens immediately, he glances over his shoulder. "Oma--"_

_"Ascension isn't something you do or not on a whim, Daniel. You can't turn it off and on as you please. You said you could do more this way, remember?"_

_It's clear she's cross with him, but aren't Ascended beings supposed to be above those sorts of petty emotions? "With all your damned rules --which you carefully didn't mention the FIRST time we played this game-- I can't do ANYthing this way!"_

_"It's not for us to interfere with the lowers, you know that. We can but observe. I sense a weakening in your resolve. You assured me you'd already released your burdens--"_

_"Yeah, well, it looks like my burdens didn't really want to be released after all." He looks back at the bed, and knows Jack's dozing while the infant continues to suckle at his breast. It's the single most touching thing Daniel's ever witnessed, and his soul aches with wanting to hold them, to keep them safe. "I just... I didn't think--"_

_"Your primitive culture is too deeply ingrained in him, the rigid social mores too profoundly fixed. He'll never be able to admit--"_

_"Doesn't matter," Daniel interrupts with a smile he doesn't try to hide as he drinks them in with his eyes. "Don't you get it? Now that I've seen into his heart, I don't need him to say it to me. But I've got to let him know somehow that I'm coming back." He turns, but Oma's gone. In his mind he hears,_ Good luck ever ascending again. I'm certainly not going to help you a third time.

_"Fine," he says curtly. He isn't really sure why she helped him this time. "I'll figure it out on my own." And in the next heartbeat, he's surrounded by more sheer nothingness than he has the intellect to comprehend, and the weight of it's crushing him. He knows that it's Oma's doing, because that vacuum hadn't been there before she stomped off.  
_

_He's certain now that it was she who deliberately clouded his memories the last go around; it was punishment, and he'd probably deserved it. But if he's on his own this time, his memories are coming with him, because THIS...? This is everything._

_He bends close enough to kiss Jack's scratchy cheek, if they could only touch... "Wait for me," he whispers..._

"And you got the real short end of the stick, pal," Jack murmurs drowsily. "Christ, I'm old enough to be your granddad. Probably won't even be around to see you all grown up, and then who'll you have? We need to find a place to go that's got all the amenities. Damn it, we gotta make some plans." He scrubs a hand across his face, trying to climb out of this damned fugue so he can think. What do we have, what do we need?

"We have each other, and right now, pal, you're not really pulling your weight. Gimme ten years and that may all be reversed and you'll be taking care of me. Crap. That's no good." He takes a minute to burp Jaws and roll onto his other side, and the kid latches on instantly. They've got the hang of this nursing thing, he thinks proudly.

"Okay. Where were we? Gotta have indoor plumbing and enough civilization, so when I'm gone you'll have people. Maybe not a family, because we've got to leave them all here. Auntie Sam and Auntie Janet can visit, and Uncle Teal'c too. Maybe Grandpa Hammond, if he's still around the base. Your family's here, kid. They can't come with us but they'll help us get started. And who knows? Maybe your Dad'll be able to watch over you too, from wherever the hell he's gone."

The baby falls asleep soon after and Jack disengages carefully, piling pillows all around the tiny form on the big bed in case he somehow rolls or scooches around in search of company. Then he turns on the computer terminal so it can be warming up while he slips on a fresh pair of t-shirts. 

*****

Hammond looks up at the sound of knuckles on his doorjamb and chuckles. "Where's your sidekick, Colonel?"

Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, Jack steps into the room and attempts a smile. "Infirmary's keeping him hostage. I think Janet's raffling off chances to hold him."

"I know," Hammond says holding up a slip of yellow paper. "I've got 1445 in the rocking chair raffle."

Jack smiles for real. It's the first in a long time, and he hopes it's a sign. "You shoulda said something. I'd a let you hold him for free."

Hammond shrugs. "It's for a good cause. I had to turn down Doctor Fraiser's requisition for a new microwave for the nurse's lounge earlier this week, and I'm feeling a little guilty."

"Ah." Accessing his mental notepad, Jack scribbles, _order microwave,_ then pushes it to the top of the lengthy list so the charge will have time to clear before he closes down his credit card account. He figures it's the least he can do. He'll ask Teal'c to help him with the online shopping. "Yeah, she's good with that guilt thing."

Motioning for Jack to take a seat, Hammond tucks the raffle ticket into his desk calendar and folds his hands on his desk. "What can I do for you, Colonel?"

"Any word on how Kinsey's doin' in the polls?" He hadn't been following any of it too closely before the thing with Thor happened, because he had more important things to do than read about petty, arrogant politicians. Now, it's the center of his life around which everything else turns. 

"Politics." Hammond shakes his head. "Nothing definitive yet. We've still got a couple of big primaries to go before somebody breaks the dead heat the top three contenders seem to have." 

Jack nods and scratches absently at a spot of what looks to be baby barf on the leg of his BDUs. Feels like Kinsey's breathing down his neck already.

"I was hopin'..." He takes a breath and lets it out in an annoyed sigh. Now that he's here in front of Hammond, the words on the tip of his tongue feel ungrateful, which he isn't, not at all. Fucking hormones.

He tries again. "My kid's a week old, sir, and he hasn't seen the sun on his face, or felt the wind in what little hair he's got--" Jack's gaze catches on Hammond's nearly hairless head. "Sorry sir," he mumbles. Hammond waves both the comment and the apology off. "I just... I really don't want him to grow up like this, y'know?" He imagines a tow-headed little boy running bases in lush green grass and splashing in a sparkling pool, and he aches with wanting those things for Jaws. Things any kid can have, unless of course he's _The Last Fucking Asgard in Two Galaxies._

"You're not a prisoner here, Jack," Hammond says gently.

Hands raised against the charge, Jack hurries to add, "I know that, sir. It's protective custody. And I appreciate it, believe me. I know it's not safe for him out there. If it were just me, I could disappear under the radar no problem, but I'm gonna be a little conspicuous walkin' around with Mini-Me slung across my chest. Not enough hands, not enough eyes. Let's face it, whoever's with him's handicapped. A sitting duck."

Hammond smiles. He's known this moment would come for the last week. He hoped to have something better to offer the man than just shelter after everything he's been through, but this is such a tricky situation, perched on such a fine and dangerous line. "What do you propose?"

Jack reaches into his overshirt pocket and pulls out a slip of paper. He unfolds it and hands it over. "Zadra Losal," he says, turning his head to continue reading the alien words even now that they're upside down. "The Losalians. Or something close to that. SG-1 checked out the place last year. They're transplanted humans just like we've run into on three quarters of the planets we've cataloged. Slightly ahead of us technologically, but as I recall, not as hoity-toity as the Tollan were."

"If I remember correctly, the Losalians weren’t any more willing to establish trade with Earth than any of our other acquaintances have been."

"Yes, sir. But I'm hoping they might be willing to take in a couple of Tau'ri refugees." His voice cracks and he swallows deliberately, surprised at how much it hurts to say out loud. "Even if they don't have ice hockey," he adds softly, "I figure it's better than the poor kid spending his childhood in what amounts to an underground bunker."

Hammond nods. He doesn't, in principle, disagree; he wouldn't want his granddaughters raised in the SGC either. But that fine line's digging into his ass, and there's more at stake here than one little baby's playground amenities.

"And later? When his legacy begins to assert itself?" Dangerous political factions aside, Hammond can't in all good conscience abandon the good of his planet for personal feelings, and if he can secure the cooperation of the resource, while at the same time protecting them both from the aforementioned dangerous factions, then everybody wins, and he doesn't go to Leavenworth. "What then?"

They have no idea when that'll happen or how it will manifest, and Jack considers being mad at Thor for not providing a goddamned instruction book with the kid. He figures if Daniel were here, he might have some kind of higher consciousness to higher consciousness communication goin' with the little tyke, but even if he didn't, he'd know better how to handle all this metaphysical crap, and he considers being mad at Daniel a little too. Jack can do fishing and baseball and hockey and swimming and maybe golf, if push comes to shove, but he's gonna make a fuckin' lousy spiritual adviser by anyone's definition. 

Jack sighs under the weight of the terrible, yawning unknown stretching out in front of him. He never asked for this, not the responsibility of another innocent life depending on him, and certainly not the welfare of the entire fucking planet. He won't sacrifice one for the other.

"I honestly don't know, sir. We can keep in touch, regular communication, coded of course, and when it's time... when it looks like he's got something to offer... you can tell me if the coast is clear. If the political climate'll be safe for him to come back." He shrugs offhandedly. "Or, y'know, if Kinsey drops dead or somethin' really useful like that."

Hammond allows himself a smile. He's not certain he'd be as composed and optimistic as Jack's being, were he in the Colonel's... shoes. "I'm not sure how practical that plan is, me being the gatekeeper. I'm not a young man, Jack. I was supposed to retire seven years ago. Doctor Fraiser says that by her best guess, that boy's going to age normally, and we have no idea how his intellectual development will track; he may not even come into his own until he's in his teens or later."

Jack's had a lot of these same concerns, and he has no more answer for them than Hammond has. He spreads his arms wide. "I'm open to suggestions."

*****

"This is extortion, you know that, right?" Janet's nurses have spirited Jaws away on condition that Jack surrender himself for the thorough exam he's managed to wriggle out of since beam-down.

Janet smiles. "Well, I can't disagree with you there, Colonel, but you really left me no other choice. Every time I try to get you into my infirmary for something more thorough than a cursory checkup, you use that poor baby as an excuse. So... excuse gone. He's enjoying the collective cooing of the entire Anthro department at the moment, and I've got Engineering and Food Services lined up behind them, so we've got plenty of time to give you a thorough going-over. Make yourself comfortable up on table three, please."

Grumbling under his breath, he hops up onto the exam table and petulantly reconsiders the microwave. 

*****

Forty-five minutes later, Janet marches into the infirmary paging through his chart, now containing copies of his most current lab reports, which are nothing short of shocking. She ducks into his curtained cubicle to see him slipping into his overshirt.

"I wasn't finished, Colonel," she says tartly.

"Oh, yes, you were." He cups an ear theatrically. It isn't necessary, because the baby's cry is... robust, and beginning to fill the infirmary. "My master's voice. It's feeding time."

"Ah," she says with a smile and a conciliatory bow of her head. "A prior commitment," she concedes. He's adapted to his physical changes and the new demands on his body in remarkable time. She moves closer so that they can speak quietly.

"You'll be glad to know that most everything seems to be right where it's supposed to be--"

"Thor did some kind of flashy-blinky thingy and took care of all that," he replies with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"--except for your unusual ability to lactate."

"Yeah," he shrugs, "but that's coming in pretty handy, so I can't complain. It'll go away once he's what'dyacallit, weaned, right?"

"It should taper off naturally, yes. Supply and demand. If there's no demand, the supply should dry up."

"Good to know." He takes a seat on the hard plastic chair, cramming his right foot into the waiting boot and lacing it up. He squints up at her with an irritated spin of one hand because he can tell there's more she's not telling him. "Aaaannnnd...?" he prompts as he finishes the bow, then tucks all the loose ends inside the top of the boot.

"There's other good news," she reports with a twinkle in her eye.

He rolls his eyes. "I gathered that much," he says, settling his left foot squarely into it's boot, stamping it twice to get it comfortable before he cinches it up. "C'mon, Doc, don't keep me in suspense. I got places to go, people to feed." He claps his hands on his thighs in preparation for standing and continues to look up at her expectantly.

She opens the file again and glances at the test results, which still report findings that are nothing short of remarkable. "Based on a comparison of today's scans with those taken just six weeks ago, I'm noticing a distinct improvement in your overall bone density, as well as a significant reduction in the inflammation in both of your knees."

He makes a face. "Huh. That explains it, I guess. I've noticed the pretty much total lack of pain in the mornings, but I thought I was just imagining it because I had other things on my mind." Like a baby who still didn't have a name, for cryin' out loud. And not to mention a missing friend whose voice he's started to hallucinate in the dark. Yeah, not mentioning that part _at all._

"Nope, not imagining it." She flips the page over to the blood test results. "Most surprisingly, your ANA is back to normal and your lipid panel is near perfect."

Jack regards her through suspicious eyes. "What're you tryin' hard not to say, Doc?"

She shrugs and closes the file against her chest, folding her arms across it. "I'm saying that the 'flashy-thingy' Thor used on you seems to have done more than just return you to your masculine physiology and give you the convenient ability to lactate," she says softly. "It's also probably responsible for a..." she searches for the appropriate analogy, "a kind of aging reset. You've got the joints and metabolism most forty-year-olds would kill for."

He's staring at her with an uncharacteristic, slack-jawed expression which, along with the dark circles underneath his eyes, are probably the result of inadequate sleep, so she rephrases the bottom line into simpler terms. "I'd say you've added about ten years to your lifespan, Colonel." She glances at the baby who's just arrived via a haggard nurse, eager to hand off her noisy bundle. "And it looks like you're gonna need every one of them."

*****

It's after 1700 hours, but Jack tracks his 2IC to her lab. He wonders if she's even left the base since this thing happened.

"Hey, Carter," he says, waving the receiver of a baby monitor in her direction. It's pretty bulky, with all the shortwave doodads she's got duct-taped to it, but somehow, magically, it works inside the mountain. "Thanks for the--"

She smiles tiredly. "Oh sure. I figured it might buy you a little autonomy."

"It has that," he agrees, clipping the device into the epaulette on his over shirt. Slipping shaky hands into his pockets, he noses around the office listlessly.

"Can I help you with something, sir?"

He shrugs, but doesn’t face her, keeping her just inside his peripheral vision. He hopes it'll be easier this way. "It's been two weeks. Looks like he's not coming back. I'm guessing it's time to get started on that memorial service." He thinks he maybe could've phrased it better, because when he glances up, she looks stricken, and he feels like ten kinds of scum. Then her mouth settles into a thin, hard line, just like his grandma's used to, just before she threatened to cut a switch to use on his backside. Makes him feel about seven years old.

"I'm not ready to give up yet," she says tightly.

He sighs deeply and starts to poke around her desk at some rusty gadget. When he starts to move toward the shelf in the back, she takes the rusty thing from him without saying a word. He realizes that now that he's opened his fat mouth he's gotta explain himself, and he's not looking forward to having anyone, least of all Carter, start believing that he's a raving lunatic. But he's _so_ fucking tired, and he really has to get a grip, and this is all he can figure to do to get things settled so he can get on with his life.

"I don't wanna give up either, Carter, but I think I need closure on this. I'm--"

She's instantly alert. "What?" she prods when he doesn't continue.

He blows out a nervous breath. "I think I'm hearing things," he says softly. "Prolly losing what's left of my mind." She frowns, and he knows what she's thinking. _Oh, here we go. Paging Doctor MacKenzie._

Her eyes light up as she stands, coming around the desk until she's right up close to him and whispers, "What're you hearing?"

He frowns and negotiates a half-step back. "It's not--"

"It's important, sir."

Growling, his hands come up against the back of his neck, pulling his head down, chin to chest, the tightness so sharp there, he's afraid the tendons are going to splinter. "It's Daniel, okay?" he snaps, arms thrown wide, expression accusing. "I keep imagining I hear him calling my name. And--"

"And?" she presses, her expression insistent, a smile barely dancing on her lips.

And if she's playing him, he'll have her busted down to second Looey so fast it'll make her head spin. "Wait for me," Jack reports, daring her to laugh. "He keeps whispering, 'wait for me'."

"He's ascended!" Sam shouts with enviable certainty. "I've been looking all over for places a corporeal being could survive, and all the time he's been right here with us-- with you-- as an ascended being."

He looks at her warily, because while he might be losing his marbles in the vacuum of parental sleep deprivation, she's completely off her gourd. "What the hell're you talking about?" He actually sees her downshift into explaining mode, and he absently wonders why she isn't more pissed off about always having to dummy things down for the rest of them all the time. 

"Didn't you say he came to you when you were in Ba'al's prison, and then again, to ask you to find the Eye of Ra on Abydos?"

Jack eyes her with suspicion, because --alarmingly-- he thinks he sees where she's going with this, and the entire possibility scares the hell outta him. "Ye-aah..."

"And Teal'c said he saw Daniel after the ambush that damaged his and Bra'tac's symbiotes on Kresh'ta."

"Carter, you're grasping at straws! I'm not _seeing_ him, just--"

"Hearing his voice, I know. Look, maybe he can't manifest visually for some reason, but I think there's enough precedent here to at least _consider_ the possibility that he's been trying to contact you!"

He hates when she gets this beseeching expression on her face. What the hell's he supposed to do with that? He's just looking for a way to put some ghosts to rest. Not a big, uniformed, flag-folding affair, because Teal'c doesn't need another one of those, and Jaws for sure doesn't need a flag where they'll be going, and Jack doesn't deserve one. He also doesn't think he could bear to send another wreath through the wormhole with Daniel's name on it, but _Christ,_ they've got to do _something_ for the man. He and the Asgard threw themselves on the Replicator grenade, and that needs to be acknowledged by _somebody._

"Carter--"

"Just hear me out, sir--"

But he can't listen, because if he actually lets himself hear the words, hear the hope she's pumping into them, he'll go mad, and then where will Jaws be? He figures he'll just stand there until her lips stop moving, and then shake his head grimly before hightailing it to their room and locking the door, and that'll be the end of it.

He'll go to Hammond first thing in the morning and tell him they need to have a quiet memorial service right away. He'll warn him not to listen to Carter because she's obviously in deep denial. 

He's on to her now, though. She wants to go and get his hopes up for some damned fool's errand that's gonna do nothing except prolong his pain when he's just barely holding on as it is. He needs to get past this, because the Republican Presidential wannabe field has just narrowed down to two; Kinsey's one of 'em, and the other guy’s a complete unknown quantity. Jack figures his days here on planet Earth are numbered either way.

And he's ready to take the next step, because he's been busy making mental lists. 

He's got a list of financial matters that need to be addressed, like the house he just put on the market, and his grandparent's cabin, which he wants to leave to Sara, and a handful of accounts. And he's made another list of his personal effects, detailing which ones he'd like to take with him if the Losalians say yes, and what should be done with the rest of it. And still another list of calls he'd like to make to people he's never going to see again, but he's not sure that'll be allowed, since he doesn't know what the cover story's gonna be to explain his disappearance in the first place. And oh yeah... with a baby, no less. Lots and lots of lists.

He briefly tunes back in to Carter's droning voice. "--it's really perfectly reasonable!"

She's stopped talking, grinning at her accomplishment, and he doesn't have to fake the grim set to his jaw as he brushes past her and starts down the corridor.

"Sir--"

"Not now, Carter," he bites off as the elevator doors close. _Not ever,_ he thinks.

*****

He's standing in front of Teal'c's quarters, shifting the receiver to the baby monitor from hand to hand, and rethinking his earlier notion that this was a good idea, when the door opens and makes the point moot. 

"O'Neill. Is all well?"

"Not really," he says truthfully, glancing somewhat nervously over his shoulder to scan the corridor for overly-friendlies. "Can I--" Teal'c moves aside to allow Jack to enter the candle filled room. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting," he says, coming to rest near the center of the massive glow.

"You are not," Teal'c says closing the door gently so the flames are not disturbed. "I can no longer kel'no'reem as I once did, but I still find the ritual... to be restful." 

His voice is low and rumbly and soothing, and Jack's glad he came.

"Is there something you require from me, O'Neill?"

Jack looks around the room at the banks of wavering candlelight. Wonders how long it takes the big guy to get 'em all lit. Thinks maybe that's part of the point of it. "Have you, uh..." He clears his throat, thankful the other man's stayed behind him. "Seen Daniel?" He grimaces at how stupid that sounds. "Lately?" 

Jack hears movement and imagines that Teal'c has clasped his hands behind him. It's his 'at attention' pose, which he assumes whenever delivering official proclamations and such. "Major Carter disclosed to me just this afternoon that you believe you have heard Daniel Jackson speaking to you."

Jack swipes a hand across his face and swallows down the tears he feels burning the backs of his eyes, glad for the dim lighting. He's pretty sure he's losing his mind, but it couldn't hurt to check.

"I dunno," he admits with as offhand a shrug as he can manage. "I'm not sure what I believe anymore. How much of it's really happening, and how much..."

"Is wishful thinking?"

Jack turns, startled at Teal's use of the idiom, but meets a wall of unflappable Jaffa. He sighs again and looks away. "Yeah." 

"You are mourning Daniel Jackson."

"Yep," he says softly. "I sure as hell am."

"You believe he has... passed on from this existence?"

Jack turns again, hoping to see something in his expression --anything, he'd settle for obtuse Jaffa legends at this point-- that'll give him a clue how he can move on. Let go. "Don't you?"

"Major Carter believes Daniel Jackson has attempted contact with you."

Jack grunts. "Major Carter is--" _crazy._ He stops himself, because he's tired and feeling exceptionally bitchy, and he shouldn't take it out on her.

"You believe she is a victim of the wishful thinking?"

Jack shrugs, looking away. The less said about Carter's wild goose chases, the better, he thinks.

"And you are afraid to hope that she is correct."

Jack sighs and tiredly looks down at the receiver in his hand, not bothering to confirm Teal'c's astounding powers of observation.

"How many times, O'Neill?"

"Every night," he answers woodenly. "Every. Fucking. Night."

"When you are alone, in the dark. No one else has heard him."

"Well, if the kid's heard him too, he ain't talkin'," he snaps over his shoulder.

"Have you attempted to reach out to Daniel Jackson's kalach? His soul?"

Jack winces and paces to the far wall. "I'm crap at all this metaphysical shit, you know that. The fact that I'm hearing voices is probably a-- a case of survivor's guilt. A byproduct of lack of sleep and some _severe_ cracks in my admittedly fragile veneer of sanity." He rubs at the back of his neck, trying to scrape away the feeling that he's being watched. "I just-- I need sleep. I need... peace."

The low rumbling purr behind him is Teal'c taking the time to consider his words. To be careful with him. Jack hates that T thinks he needs that. He hates the fact that the man's right, even more.

"I am sorry to say I do not believe you will find the peace you seek, O'Neill, until you are able to put the ghost of Daniel Jackson to rest in your heart."

Jack turns abruptly, suddenly furious with the care and platitude he used to be strong enough not to need. "And just how the _hell_ am I supposed to do that?"

Teal'c's expression softens, and Jack's sure that gentle understanding will break him. "Do you remember the meditation exercises we attempted many years ago, when our entities were exchanged within our bodies?" he asks softly.

"I remember I wasn't any good at 'em," Jack states with finality.

But Teal'c is unmoved by his declaration. "Be seated here." He points to one of the mats on the floor as he takes a seat on the remaining one at right angles to him. 

Grumbling, but grateful for his new uncomplaining knees, Jack sits and folds his legs as instructed, placing the baby monitor in the hollow that creates.

"Close your eyes," Teal'c instructs gently, then allows the words to dissipate into the candlelit room. When he speaks again, his voice is even softer. "Relax your shoulders. Release the energy you have stored in your arms and legs." 

Jack is suddenly aware of just how tightly he's wrapped, and he works to let it all go. 

"Breathe," Teal'c instructs in a voice that's more a whisper of imagination than sound. "Slowly. Deeply." 

Jack can hear Teal'c's slow, gentle exhalation, and he tries to slow his own respirations to match. 

"Permit your mind to become completely blank. Do not strive for it to be so. Rather, allow it to empty of its own accord as you retreat from active thought..."

And there's nothing for a long, long time. Jack doesn't know how long he's been sitting here. He doesn't know how long it's been since Teal'c's spoken, or if he was so out of it that he missed his quiet instructions. This is the most peaceful he's felt in weeks, and the relief of being able to draw breath without the weight of what he's gained, and what he had to lose to get it, is so palpable and precious, he feels lighter than he has since this whole thing started.

_"O'Neill."_

Jack's eyes open at the entreaty and his own startled gasp sounds loud in the otherwise silent room.

"Hey, Jack." A nervous smile flits across Daniel's mouth, but it's instantly swallowed up by the uncertainty in his eyes as he sits in front of him, knee to knee, dressed just as he was the last time Jack saw him as he paced Thor's sick bay, taunting him with his damnable logic. "Can I come home?"

Jack blinks, but the vision doesn't clear. Frowning, he reaches out to wave his arm through the apparition, but his hand meets skin and muscle and bone, and when his fingers curl around a wrist and tug, Daniel pitches forward into his arms. The hug is more of a desperate grapple, as both men grab handfuls of fabric and hang on for dear life. The only sound is Jack's frantically choked-off nose-breathing, in a valiant attempt to staunch his tears of relief. He's mostly successful.

As they cling together, Jack holds on tight, because after all, he's allowed one good hug every time Daniel comes back from the dead, and he thinks maybe he forgot last time. He hopes that if he holds on tight enough, there won't be a next time.

*****

"All right," Jack says as he tiredly swipes a hand across his face. 

It's 0130, which is very late and also way too fuckin' early, he hasn't slept for real since Jaws was born, and either Daniel's truly back from the dead --again-- or Jack's so deep into this fantasy that he's started pulling other people into it. He figures that any minute now, the guy who can't possibly be Daniel Jackson will start looking like the six foot four inches of cranky Jaffa he really is, and that's just not fair. He's been sitting on the floor of Teal'c's room for long enough now that his ass has gone way past numb and into that horrible tingly stage that's threatening to make him giggle, but he's manfully holding back for now, because he's really fucking confused.

"Run through it again for me? Slower this time."

Daniel rolls his eyes as he leans back on his hands. "The Replicators are done. Asgard too. Oma's never speaking to me again, so I had to figure out how to descend by myself --which I mostly did, all but the last bit, and that was all you, so thanks for that-- which means that this time, I have all my memories."

Jack just blinks.

Daniel sighs in his visibly impatient, long-suffering way. "I've been right here waiting for you to notice me for what seems like months!" he says with a tart note of exasperation.

"It's been fourteen days," Jack says flatly. "You've been here the whole time?"

"I've noticed that time's a fairly fluid commodity, but yeah, I've been trying to get your attention _forever_. I just-- I couldn't seem to _affect_ anything on your plane of existence. I couldn't slam doors or throw objects. All I could do was shout at you and hope you'd finally hear me."

"You were whispering," Jack accuses defensively. How was he supposed to know it wasn't a hallucination?

"Shouting. My. Fucking. _Lungs._ Out," Daniel replies snippily.

"Were not." 

"Was _so,"_ he says firmly. He sits back up straight, flexing his wrists as though the pose had been uncomfortable. "I heard you talking to him."

"Him?"

"Our baby, Jack-- you named him 'Jaws'? Really?"

Jack scowls, because Daniel's been here for ten goddamn minutes and already he's criticizing. "You let him chew on _you_ every four hours, and let's see what _you_ wanna call him after fourteen days."

"I'm not--"

"You sure as hell are," Jack growls. "And what the fuck do you mean by riding off--"

"I did what you taught me to do. Take care of the vulnerable ones."

"You left him behind!"

 _"No._ I sent him ahead. With you. To keep you both safe." He looks away and lowers his voice some. "I did what was necessary. That's all. Of all of us, I knew I had a chance of ascending--"

"Liar."

At that, Daniel's head snaps up and he looks at Jack sharply, like he can see right through him, and Jack thinks his hallucinating skills are top-notch, because he can totally see the real Daniel reacting this way. 

_"Nothing_ mattered beyond getting the two of you off that ship," Daniel says with a voice that's pure ice-forged steel. "The replicators are toast, but that was a side benefit." He cocks his head to the side in challenge. "Happy?" 

"I don't need you protecting me!"

"You _did,"_ Daniel counters, not budging an inch, "and you still do. You can't do this alone. And you don't have to. Let me help you. I don't expect anything." He shrugs a shoulder, and his voice gentles just a little in the soft, inviting warmth of Teal'c's candlelit quarters, which, Jack's just noticed, seem to be devoid of actual Teal'c. 

"You're straight. I get it. Separate bedrooms, absolutely. You have my word that I won't force myself on you. Just," his voice breaks here, and Jack sees him swallow past it, "let me be part of your life. _His_ life. Please. Don't push me away."

Jack continues to glare and lifts his chin defiantly. "I'm not makin' any promises," he says sternly. "There's still a pretty good chance you're nothing more than a figment of my meditating imagination."

Daniel rises fluidly and extends a hand down to Jack. "Let's go to the infirmary then. Get one of Janet's people to check me out. Will that convince you?"

Smugly, Jack gets up without help, because his knees are practically good as new now. "It's a start." 

Daniel opens the door, allowing Jack to exit first, and Jack makes sure to glare at him over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold.

They make it all the way to the elevator in silence.

They wait, Daniel with his hands crammed into the pockets of his blue BDUs. "Say something," he pleads.

"Uh-uh. Don't want it to look like I'm talkin' to myself," Jack mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, for god's sake," Daniel exclaims with a shake of his head. "You are _such_ an ass."

The elevator doors open to reveal a young Marine standing in the middle of the car. Recognizing that it's the SGC's 2iC that's roaming the halls in the middle of first shift, he comes to attention with a snap of a salute, and moves to the back to allow them to enter.

Daniel smiles as Jack returns the salute with a lackadaisical handwave, and counts the stripes on the man's sleeve. "How'ya doin'?" he says, eyeing the man's his nametag. "Do you happen to know the time, Corporal Saunders?"

Saunders consults his wristwatch. "It's 0145, sir." 

Daniel makes a show of tapping the face plate of his own, putting it to his ear, shaking his wrist. Jack sees that the corporal's gaze tracks each of the movements. Daniel smiles again, his dimple flashing and eyes crinkling, and Jack is momentarily irritated, which is ridiculous, because why should he care if this figment of his imagination is outrageously flirting with a military co-worker?

"Thanks," Daniel says. "I'm running a little fast, it seems." 

"Yes, sir. Better than being late, though."

"You're right about that," Daniel agrees with a smug glance in Jack's direction. He slides his hands into his pockets and rocks up onto his toes a couple of times, in blatant imitation of a typical O'Neill pose. "Wouldn't want that, would we."

The doors open, and Saunders gets off, leaving them alone as the car starts moving again. 

"I'm real," Daniel states categorically. "See?"

Jack snorts. "The day I take a Jarhead's word for anything-- _especially_ the time..." he raises his chin defiantly and takes a left as soon as the doors open, marching down the corridor toward the infirmary. Whatever this is, he isn't gonna fall for it. He can't explain it, but he knows it can't possibly be what it looks like. He's determined to keep tight until it all shakes out one way or another. Probably the most important lesson he learned in Iraq. Of course, he wasn't bleeding postpartum emotions all over that particular battlefield, but so far, his training's been serving him well in this current armed conflict, and he'll get through this too. 

Coming to the infirmary doors, he pushes them both open with a hard shove and strides into the bustling room with confidence. A quick glance around the room finds that SG-6 is spread all over the main infirmary, but they're all sitting up, most with an attendant of some kind and Jack doesn’t see any blood, so he figures it can't be too bad. He sees Fraiser dead ahead and makes straight for her. "Hiya doc," he says jovially. "Workin' late I see."

"Colonel O'Neill," she huffs, pushing a wisp of hair from her forehead with the back of her wrist. "I'm exhausted as well as especially busy just now. Is there something I can-- oh my god, _DANIEL!"_

And then it isn't long before the noise level increases as Janet starts barking orders and people make way for the newest patient. She pulls a nurse from one area and an orderly from another and tests are arranged and instructions given. As Daniel's escorted to the only remaining exam table, he turns back toward Jack and smirks over the top of the short doctor's head.

Heart pounding, Jack just fades into the background unnoticed. His hands are shaking so badly by the time he gets to the elevator, he has trouble swiping his card through the reader. He grabs the monitor receiver off its clip and holds between his two palms, as though that would calm the fussing infant it represents.

He runs into Teal'c on his way back to his own quarters.

"How is Daniel Jackson?" A small, secret smile plays on his lips as he matches Jack's stride.

Jack frowns, because it feels like he's been played, and that pisses him off. "He's real, and he's fine. How'd you know?"

Teal'c cocks his head to the side. "That he was, in fact, real, or--"

Jack stops short, and Teal'c follows half a step later. "That bit in your quarters was a set-up, wasn't it?" he demands.

"It was not. Until the moment your consciousness reached out to his, I had not seen him with my eyes, only felt his presence. I knew _you_ would be able to reach him."

Jack wants to ask him how he was so goddamned sure, but he's afraid he won't like the answer. 

In the intervening silence, Teal'c nods to the fussing sound coming from the monitor, and states in a confident tone Jack has to strain to hear, "This child connects you and Daniel Jackson, O'Neill. As it should be. Do not waste time questioning that which is clearly meant to be."

*****

They visit the infirmary right after the morning feeding. No surprise, Daniel's still there. Thanks to his full tummy, Jaws is asleep, which means he's quiet. This is not his natural state, but probably good for a first introduction.

"Who's laughing now, tough guy?" Jack says with a slight curl to his lips.

Daniel rolls his eyes, then reaches a hand out to the bedside table for his glasses. "Janet's just being cautious," he says as he settles them on his nose. "I'll be out of here by lunchtime. She promised."

"You could always bat the baby blues; that usually works."

Daniel thinks, _would it work on you?_ but dismisses it immediately, producing a grunt and a grumble where a response should've been. He's promised Jack that he won't molest him, and he feels that probably includes innuendo and double entendres too. He's aware that Jack still hasn't yet agreed to let him be part of their son's life, so he sort of feels as though he's auditioning for the part. "Is that..."

Jack glances down at the bundle he holds in one arm like an extension of his own body, which he guesses he pretty much is now. "No, no, it's just some random baby I found lollygagging around the corridors without a hall pass."

Daniel makes a face. "Funee."

"Actually..." Jack makes a show of checking to see if the coast is clear, and then reaches under the blanket and produces a lidded Styrofoam cup two thirds full of the mostly still warm coffee stash Daniel keeps in his office. "He sneaked you in some forbidden fruit." He holds out the offering, thinking nervously that maybe this pushes the corny scale more than a little bit.

With wide eyes, Daniel looks from the baby to the coffee and back with anguished indecision at having to choose what to be interested in. He looks so much more real on this side of the almost-ascended plane. He finally looks up to meet Jack's eyes. "No fair."

Jack shrugs and shoves the cup in his direction. "The kid's asleep. Drink the coffee while you can."

Two swallows and a grateful groan into the cup of nirvana, Janet comes in. She stops near the bed and folds her arms across her chest, raising an eerily Teal'c-ian eyebrow.

In unison, both men point to the slumbering infant. "It's his fault."

"Seriously? You're both blaming a defenseless child?"

"Defenseless?" Jack snorts. "Don't get me started."

"Janet," Daniel whines, "when can I get out of here?"

"Watch it, you'll hurt my feelings."

Daniel sees Jack bite back a retort, probably something along the line of, 'You have feelings?' He wonders at the cause of Jack's uncharacteristic restraint, then replies with a frown, "You know what I mean."

"That's what they all say," she snarks, grabbing his chart off the hook at the end of the bed and scribbling something on the top sheet. 

"I notified General Hammond of your sudden reappearance last night. He's set a briefing at 0900 this morning for all of SG-1." 

She re-hangs the chart and frowns. "What does that say about this place," she posits, "that you came back from god knows where after two weeks missing, and it didn't even rate coming in after hours." She shakes her head. "Anyway, all of your test results should be in at that point, so we'll know soon enough what's what." She checks her watch. "That should give you juuust enough time to finish your liquid breakfast and grab a shower first."

*****

"I'm sorry I'm late," Daniel says as he hurries into the General's office. "I just got a little distracted, I guess--"

Hammond smiles patiently from behind his desk as Daniel slips into the only open seat next to Jack. "That's all right, son. We're just glad to have you back with us."

"Thank you, sir," Daniel mumbles even as his face colors. He's brought no files, no coffee. Nothing with which to deflect the awkwardness he now feels, sitting there in front of all of them. He reminds himself that they all know he's the father of Jack's baby. That this was an immaculate conception is really no help. Sam knows how he feels about Jack, and Teal'c's probably guessed. Only Hammond doesn't know for sure.

He glances at the General's fond expression and revises his estimation. He's pretty sure Hammond'll at least _pretend_ not to know, for Jack's sake. He sighs. Completely outted, then. Lovely.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Jack reach over to straighten the blanket that covers their sleeping baby. The kid's apparently making his home pretty happily on a converted medical cart, and Daniel's nearly overcome by a wave of gratitude that takes his breath away. _They're safe, and I'm back,_ he thinks. That's more than he could've hoped for. He tells himself none of the rest matters-- not the awkwardness, not the fact that Jack's still... being Jack-like. He tells himself Jack'll come around to the idea of co-parenting their son eventually, and if that's all he's ever prepared to do, then that'll be enough.

"Doctor Fraiser," Hammond rumbles, "can you start us off?" 

From her seat to Daniel's left, Janet opens the folder on the top of the pile in her lap and glances at the contents. "I've run all the standard scans and compared them to what we have on file. He is, in fact, Doctor Daniel Jackson; his DNA, fingerprints, and brain scans all confirm that. There's no noticeable change in his physical condition from six weeks ago when SG-1 found him on Vis Uban. As far as I can tell, he's in perfect health, with no ill effects from whatever adventures he's had these last fourteen days."

Jack elbows him. "You should write a book."

"Yeah," Daniel agrees. "But then I'd hafta shoot ya."

Without pausing to acknowledge their banter, Janet closes that file, shuffles it to the bottom of her stack and opens the next one. "Colonel O'Neill, on the other hand, has shown dramatically improved blood chemistry since his latest visit with the Asgard, as well as reduced osteoarthritis in every one of his previously affected joints. In addition, his body's still producing estrogen and progesterone in pretty significant quantities, but he seems to be handling those changes pretty well and, outside of that, he's perfectly healthy."

"Maybe _you_ should write a book," Daniel suggests helpfully.

Jack just shrugs, his expression sad. "More shooting."

Hammond ignores the comments and directs his attention to his CMO. "To what do you attribute Colonel's improved state of health, Doctor?"

Janet consults the file closely, reading from it verbatim with an utterly straight face and the merest tilt of her head. "Most likely, the utilization of an Asgard flashy, blinky thingy." She closes the file, shuffles it to the bottom as finished, then folds her hands over top of it and earnestly meets his startled gaze. "Apparently."

Hammond looks at her expression and realizes she's only repeating what her patient has reported to her. All heads turn slowly toward the Colonel.

"What?" Jack says indignantly, looking from one to another as his posture grows even more defensive. "It was blue."

"I see," Hammond says in all seriousness.

"Continuing," Janet says, opening the final folder. "As to Infant O'Neill--"

"Jack!" Daniel cuts in. "You really _haven't_ named him?"

"I was waitin' for YOU!" Jack spews without thinking. Once the words have cleared his mouth and are out there floating around in the now totally still room, he realizes that it's true. He shrugs as nonchalantly as he can, because he suddenly feels self-conscious, and really silly, since there's no rational basis for his lack of action in this area, strictly an emotional one. That thought sets fire to his cheeks. "I figured you'd be back." He lifts his chin fractionally, because everything's _always_ a challenge with Daniel, and adds tartly, "Eventually."

"I'm glad," Daniel says softly, and then to help Jack get his balance back, offers, "Does he come to all the briefings?"

"Why not?" Jack says haughtily. "He has clearance."

"He probably does," Daniel agrees with a nod. From the corner of his eye, he can see Sam grinning where she sits perched on one hip against the credenza just behind Jack, and he works hard to acknowledge her amused glee with just a glance and not an affectionate smile of his own.

"What is your medical assessment of the child, Doctor?" Hammond cuts in, gathering the reins of the briefing from his renegade team.

"He is likewise in perfect health. No physical anomalies whatsoever, beyond an adorable little birthmark on his butt, which has been confirmed to be just normal pigmentation. There is no sign of abnormal growth patterns whatsoever. He's a baby. Perfect in every way."

Hammond's expression is indulgent. "Thank you for that completely professional medical opinion, Doctor. Do you have anything further?"

"No, sir," she says unrepentantly. "I think that about covers it."

"You're dismissed," he says with a gentle nod.

"Thank you, sir. If it's all the same to you, I think I'll go home and sleep through the next three shifts."

Hammond smiles. "Consider it an order, if that'll expedite your escape."

When the door closes behind her, he turns to Daniel. "Doctor Jackson, I think I speak for all of us when I say we're thrilled to have you back. But can you tell us anything at all about where you've been these last two weeks?"

At that moment, Daniel realizes he has an important choice to make. Thanks to Sam and Teal'c working it out from different angles, the four people in this room know for sure that he ascended, and conducting the debrief in the General's office keeps it to that number for now. But other than Jack, none of them know that he came back with his memories intact this time.

He thinks it might be smart to let it go down that way, because if he admits to remembering Thor's plan to entrap the Replicators, Hammond will feel bound to report it to his superiors. That leaves the door open for his potentially remembering other things, things that would attract extra notice from the NID, like the last minute modification of the plan that included his gruesome death, and the unfortunate fact that with the Asgard gone, Earth doesn't qualify as a 'protected planet' any longer.

And more attention is exactly what they _don't_ need. The less they all know, the less they have to try to protect from leaks. He's sure he can sell the amnesia angle, as long as Jack doesn't challenge him.

"No, sir. I remember being on Thor's ship with Jack, and the baby coming, and then the Replicator attack, but all the rest..." He shrugs sadly, deliberately dismissing the last ten haunting minutes of his previous life aboard an Asgard sample pod which are burned into the very fabric of his soul. Anyway, the anguish of that memory was offset by the sheer joy of watching Jack interacting with their son over the course of the last two weeks while he was still between planes of existence. If he hadn't been able to come all the way back, that might even have been enough. That he has, is just icing on the cake. Assuming the NID don't piss all over it.

"It's all just... blank, sir. I'm sorry."

Beside him, Jack is tucking the blanket more snugly around their sleeping baby, disinterest personified. _Excellent,_ Daniel thinks. A little twisting of the truth, and no one gets hurt.

"But y'know, we actually have no proof one way or the other about what happened to me the last two weeks. And since I remember who I am, unlike when I woke up on Vis Uban, there's really no evidence to say for sure that I _did_ ascend. That I wasn't really off on a field trip with the Asgard for just the reason you made public, and they beamed me straight back here when we were done with it, sans recent memories, for their own security purposes, but with all the rest of my marbles intact." Having laid out the plausible deniability, he shrugs, trying to convey the sheer simplicity of it. "All in a day's work."

*****

Daniel wants to catch up to Jack after the meeting, but he'd scurried away as soon as Hammond dismissed them, and Sam and Teal'c waylaid him with questions and good wishes. He finally tracks the man down just coming out of a VIP room, the receiver to the baby monitor sticking out of his left shirt pocket.

Jack urgently holds up two hands, frantically mouthing _SHHHHH!_ as Daniel approaches. Stopping in his tracks, Daniel nods and waits for Jack to slowly finish closing the door and join him. 

"I figure if I hurry, I can grab an early lunch," he says in a loud whisper as he continues to stride past Daniel, "and actually use both hands."

"Ah," Daniel says, falling into step beside him.

"You need somethin'?"

"I just wanted to say thanks," he says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "For back there."

"Whadayamean?" Jack's expression is completely guileless as he comes to a stop.

Daniel stops as well. "In the briefing. The story I threw out there on the fly. We didn't have time to work on any kind of a--" He pauses and peers closely at the bloodshot eyes with dawning understanding. "You, ah... you don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?"

Jack sighs tiredly. "Not really, Daniel, but what else is new? Look--" he says, rolling a hand as he resumes a purposeful stride toward the elevators. "You used to be able to talk a lot faster than this," he notes absently. "Can ya give me the bottom line?"

Daniel's pretty sure now that Jack isn't facilitating the amnesia story; he really doesn't remember Daniel telling him he'd come back with all his memories. He's not sure what to think about that. "Can I join you? I could use a cup of coffee."

Jack sighs with barely disguised irritation. He misses coffee with the same kind of burning passion he used to make fun of Daniel for, but Janet won't let him have any. Hasn't since the baby. In fact, Jack's looking down the barrel of a year or so of restricted eating --no coffee, no beer, no onions on his pizza, no pizza at all, if Janet has her way-- and he might be a little testy on the subject of all the comestibles he can't have. "Whatever," he says, jamming his card into the elevator reader.

When the doors close, Daniel figures it's safe to ask, since Jack's a captive audience for the moment. "So can we talk about some stuff?"

Jack shoots him a distrustful look. "Stuff? What kinda stuff?"

Daniel blows out a breath. He hadn't thought Jack would make it easy for him, but he hadn't figured on the brick wall he's been presented with, either. He changes tactics. "Well, I dunno. I'm not sure about my--"

"Stuff."

"Yeah, my stuff. The furnished apartment I'd only had about six weeks. My clothes, my checking account--"

"That's all still there."

A smile lifts just the tiniest corner of Daniel's mouth. Jack kept his things again; that's a good sign. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Carter wouldn't let anyone touch it. Took your plants to her house for safekeeping, though."

"Oh," he says dejectedly. Not Jack, then.

"I fed your fish."

Daniel brightens a bit. "Thanks."

"Course that was more than a week ago..."

Daniel pinches the bridge of his nose. "Jack."

"Yeah?"

Daniel reminds himself that Jack loves him in some way only Jack understands, and that his being difficult is his way of expressing his discomfort with the awkward situation, which he totally gets, because it isn't any less awkward for him, really. He's been happily, functionally bisexual since he was a teenager and has always allowed his heart to lead the way in his relationships, without regard to gender. He's tried to mask his attraction-infatuation-love for Jack with varying degrees of success for the last seven-- he corrects himself, _eight_ years, because he fell hard for the man when he first laid eyes on him. But rather than making the current situation easier, it's complicated it immeasurably because, shockingly, _they have a baby together,_ and they've never even shared the simplest intimacy. They're still just co-workers. They aren't even co-parents yet.

He clears his throat as the elevator doors open and Jack steps out. "I'd like it if we could come to some kind of agreement concerning--" He sighs deeply, his shoulders sagging with the uphill climb he has ahead of him with regard to... _everything._ "Y'know, we really need a name for this kid. We can't keep referring to him as Baby--"

Jack turns the corner and barrels through the doors to the mess, which is just still mostly empty in the lull between breakfast and lunch. "I call him--"

"Yes, I know," Daniel says hurriedly. "And as amusing as that is, Jaws O'Neill sounds--"

"Like a wrestler," Jack grins, grabbing a tray. "Or a hockey goalie with no teeth. Irony," he explains. "Get it?"

"I get it," Daniel says softly as he closes his eyes, praying for patience. "Actually? It sounds like his primary caregiver is short on sleep and could use a hand--" 

But Jack has already moved down the line and started piling food onto his tray, so Daniel grabs two heavy china mugs and puts them on a second tray, filling the cups to the brim with standard, military-issue coffee. He follows Jack to a table when the guy at the register indicates that Jack took care of his bill too.

Daniel figures that waiting for Jack to invite him to help parent the baby is a much too subtle and time-consuming course of action, and considering what's involved, it's time for something more direct. He offloads the cups and sets the tray on an adjacent empty table before he takes the seat across from Jack. 

The man's eating like he's being chased. He's already polished off the mashed potatoes and green beans that constituted two-thirds of today's special --or more likely, last night's leftovers-- and is warily scooching the rigid slab of meatloaf across his gravy-stained plate as though he expects it to suddenly take flight.

"Can I move in?" Daniel asks without preamble. "Take the guest room, so we can trade off on the sleeping and child care?"

Jack looks up, eyes going wide. "I've sold my house," he blurts.

Daniel blinks. "You... what?"

Frowning, Jack snaps under his breath, "Don't judge me, Daniel. You've got no idea what I've been going through the last fourteen days while you've been--" he makes the swirly motion with his finger, succinctly encapsulating his obviously low opinion of Oma's crowd.

"Actually," Daniel says slowly, stirring his coffee and glancing around the mess to make sure they're mostly alone, "just between you and me, I kinda _do_ know what you've been going through. I've been hanging around here trying to get your attention for the better part of that time, remember? I know how hard it's been for you to adjust to these changes in your body. And I know how trying it can be to care for a new infant under the best of circumstances.

"On Abydos, I watched a lot of new mothers struggle with some of the same challenges you're going through, and every one of them had someone to help her. Someone to lean on, to give them just an hour's peace a couple of times a day, maybe a whole night's sleep once in a while."

Daniel watches the byplay of emotions cross Jack's face, and he feels like he's making progress in this delicate negotiation. "Let me do that for you," he offers gently. "Let me help you care for him. Let me do my share. We can get another house--"

"I like my house," Jack says petulantly.

"But you said--"

"I listed it with a realtor last week," he says curtly. "I don't know if he's gotten any bites yet-- figured I couldn't keep it, couldn't stay... here. The kid hasn't even been allowed out of the mountain, Daniel. Not once. It's not safe. The minute the NID gets wind--" Rubbing his temple, he shakes his head at the enormity of the problem in front of him. Doesn't Daniel see? "I can't be everywhere at once. That's why I was gonna--"

Daniel cocks his head and waits for Jack to continue. He's heard him muttering to the baby as he scanned the mission databases, so he's pretty sure he knows what Jack's plan was. All he has to do now is get him to see he has other options.

Jack scrubs a hand across his face and tries to get it sorted in his mind. He thinks it all might make more sense after a couple of pots of coffee, and wonders if Daniel would run interference for him with Fraiser. He makes yet another mental note to check the fine print on the Geneva Convention to see if there's maybe a humanitarian loophole he can use to override her intractable position.

He leans forward and lowers his voice even more. "There's a planet we found. Nice people. All the amenities. I've asked Hammond if he'll let me contact them..." His throat closes, and he can't finish for the hot wad of emotion suddenly blocking his windpipe. He's genuinely surprised at his reaction, because he'd really thought he'd been looking forward to it.

"We can still do that, if you really wanted to," Daniel says gently. "But I think we have some choices now, ones that you maybe didn't have before."

Jack wonders if it's really that simple. He's been holding at a personal DEFCON 3 for fourteen straight days, every muscle poised for imminent flight, ever since the day Daniel didn't come home. Now that he's back, Jack's just starting to feel the result of that kind of continuous tension, like a rubber band that's been stretched too far. At this point, he's worried that if he allows himself to let his guard down he'll either snap, or fall apart completely, neither of which are acceptable options, because the kid needs him to be strong...

Daniel places a warm hand on his arm and squeezes, then the bastard reads his mind. "You don't have to do it all alone now," he whispers with a strength of conviction that Jack both envies and longs to lose himself in. "We can do this. Together. I have... an idea."

Jack sighs tiredly, the weight of Daniel's hand on his arm both comforting and disconcerting. He abandons the suspicious slab of mystery meat, shoving the plate aside, and plants an elbow on the table so he can unobtrusively dig a thumb into his throbbing temple. "Okay, let's hear it."

"It's simple," Daniel says as he dumps an outrageous amount of sugar into his coffee cup. "We make sure the word gets out that I've miraculously returned from the S&R after being presumed dead for fourteen days," he says succinctly. "Dropped right into the SGC, hale and hearty, via a sparkling Asgard beam."

Jack blinks. "That's--"

"Mostly the truth, I know. How unique, right? I'm sure Sam can fudge the beam-thingy. It's no stranger than popping up on Vis Uban after more than a year; it's apparently what I do. Go figure. The NID and their compatriots stalked me pretty doggedly the first coupla weeks after I came back last time from being ascended. But when I failed to produce miracles, or do anything more amusing than sing in the shower, they got bored and went away--"

"You _think_ they went away," Jack corrects suspiciously. Then he frowns. "You sing--?"

"The point is, if we pull ascended out of the equation, I become a lot less interesting over the long haul. And while they're busy keeping an eye on me--"

"They won't give Jaws a second glance," Jack finishes uncertainly. "Yeah, I hear ya..."

Daniel takes a deep sip of his coffee and shrugs. "It's a theory. If we can convince them that I was just with the Asgard and not with the Ascended, I'm pretty sure it'll work."

It can't possibly be that simple. Hide in plain sight? Two guys and a baby, just... going about the business of living? There's got to be... He really wishes he had some coffee, because he knows this is too good to be true, he just can't find the loopholes right now because this damned headache is making it impossible to think. "But." 

"But?"

"I have lists," he says inanely, pointing at the same temple he was just gouging with his thumb. "In here. Lots of 'em."

Daniel cocks his head, and a tiny frown forms between his eyebrows. "How much sleep did you get last night?" 

"A couple-three. I didn't really notice," he says quietly. Jaws wakes up and wants to be fed, and Jack gets up to change him, and then they roll back into bed together, and there's dozing, mostly, until the next time, and that's how it goes.

"Uh-huh. And the night before?"

"That would depend on what day it was. Prolly the same."

"I see." He gulps the remaining grainy dregs from the second cup and gathers up the napkins and spoon, cramming it all onto Jack's tray, then stacks them and shoves his chair back. As he heads for the tray return, he says over his shoulder, "Let's adjourn this brainstorming session for the time being. You take a nap, and I'll take the baby for a little walk around the base, show him the sights--" 

"Sights?" Jack stands, but has nothing to gather since Daniel's done it all, so he waits awkwardly and watches Daniel dispose of their lunch paraphernalia. 

"Sure. We'll visit Siler in the FRED lab. Lotsa blinky lights and robotic arms. He'll love it. C'mon." He steers Jack out of the mess and toward the VIP room he and the baby've been calling home. Jack is more agreeable than Daniel's accustomed to, not quite a zombie, but it's... weird. 

"When you wake up, we'll give the realtor a call and see what's up, and then we'll run the plan by the General and decide on a name for the kid." 

Jack grunts, and the trip back to the VIP corridor is made in a silence Daniel makes no attempt to break. At the door, he waits for Jack to swipe his card in the reader twice because he runs it upside-down the first time, and when the door finally clicks open, he sees the exhausted man to the bed. 

"It'll all work out, Jack," he says softly, so as not to wake the baby. "You'll see."

"It better," Jack mutters, eagerly going face down.

Jack starts snoring the minute his head hits the pillow and for a moment, Daniel stands by the bed, looking down at the dark shadows under his eyes and thinking he got back just in the nick of time. He pockets the baby remote he lifted from Jack's shirt and then debates removing his boots. He elects not to try to wrestle off the man's footwear; it's not like he's never slept with his boots on before.

Glancing around the room, he spies a daypack with a baby blanket sticking out of it, shoulders it, and pushes the baby-filled cart from the room, closing the door softly behind him.

*****

"That's your Plan B?" Hammond asks, looking first to Jack, then to Daniel. "You're going to be the bait, Doctor Jackson?" 

"I'm just going to be me," Daniel shrugs, "with all the--" he flaps his hand a little, a kind of shorthand for all the weirdness that seems to surround him, _"stuff_ that involves. We let the word get out that I was just missing, not ascended, and I'm back without souvenirs of any kind. They're going to do what _they_ do, and the end result is--"

"They ignore the kid, in favor of watching him, and eventually, they leave us all alone." Jack interjects. He's about a thousand times more rested after just two and a half hours of uninterrupted, actual, real, live, not-on-the-baby-clock sleep, and he feels like a new man. It's not a perfect plan, but he thinks it has merit, now that he has the brain power to actually follow it. This has the feel of a brand new mission, and he finds that he's eager to get started on it. Scaled down a bit from 'saving the world', to saving just this tiny, warm, wriggling piece of it. He's stoked.

George is encouraged to see that Jack's willing to give this scheme a try; he'd been pretty doggedly pursuing the offworld plan up to now, to the point of 'dropping by' his office three or four times each day to tell him what the latest CNN polls were saying about the election, and to ask if they'd contacted the Losalians yet. George would've honored the execution of that plan, if it had come down to the wire with no other options. He still would, even knowing that O'Neill's disappearance would raise too many eyebrows for any President to ignore, friend or foe. The scrutiny of that investigation was virtually guaranteed to end badly for him personally. That there's another option means that he's dodged a bullet, and for that, he's grateful.

"Selfishly speaking, I rather prefer this new plan. It lets me keep all the assets and expertise right here. But Jack, I thought you were looking forward to starting over fresh offworld."

Jack grimaces. "Not really, sir. That was me making the best of a bad situation. This is a much better plan," he states smugly, "because this way, Daniel pulls his share of diaper duty."

*****

Within twelve hours of Daniel's appearance in Teal'c's quarters, word's gotten around that Daniel had just beamed into the SGC in the middle of the night, just as Jack had shown up in the infirmary two weeks prior. Just another day at the SGC.

That evening four cranky agents from the NID come to interview him, just like the teams they'd sent after he'd been found on Vis Uban. He spends several hours in a secure room giving them the scripted answers he and Jack and the General agreed upon, which the agents receive with expressions even more dour and disbelieving than last time, and it's like déjà vu all over again, except this time at the end of it, he's being strapped to a chair.

"Really, you guys, I've told you everything I know," he assures them over and over. They're unmoved and they've stopped talking altogether, and once he's tied wrist and ankle, two of them leave the room. The other two take seats across the table and just _stare_ at him. His head's heavy and his thoughts are scattered and there's nothing to do to pass the time. He wonders where Jack is. 

After what seems like many hours later, through bleary, probably bloodshot eyes, Daniel watches the changing of the guard. He's exhausted, but they won't let him sleep. He tries to work out how long it's been since he slept, just for something to do. He was partially un-ascended for a couple of weeks and then in Janet's infirmary overnight and then sketching out this plan with Jack and the General, that took a couple of hours, but then, there were _obviously_ things they'd failed to consider, because sleep deprivation honestly hadn't occurred to any of them, and the last time he'd really slept was before Jack got pregnant. He's been sitting here in this room with his silent captors for hours with nothing to occupy his mind, which is a surprisingly draining activity. His current tormentors exchange places with the other pair, and he knows he's in deep shit now, because they're very rested, and he's very not. 

When Hammond gets wind of this treatment, his outraged call to the President at the hostile handling of his personnel yields a regretful, 'out of my hands' response, and he curses all politicians, but especially lame ducks, pretty effusively once he puts the receiver down. He confines a fuming Jack to his quarters and parks an airman outside his door, just to make sure he doesn't do something to make things worse, then goes up to check on Doctor Jackson in person.

They've taken his boots and socks and tied his ankles to the legs of a metal straight-backed chair. His arms are tucked up behind him at a steep angle, and George knows his shoulders have to be killing him. It's obvious they haven’t allowed him even the most basic of human rights because the room reeks of urine.

They should've known it wouldn't go down that easily. But they're in it now; changing the story at this point would be worse than letting it play out, however bad this gets. "How're you holding up?" he asks gently. 

"Tired," Daniel says softly. "So damned tired. They aren't even _talking_ to me anymore. Not asking me anything. They just _sit_ here and stare at me. I stay awake as long as I can, but whenever I do fall asleep, one of them slaps me awake. It's..." He feels like crap, like the morning after one of Skar'ra's moonshine parties. He's been asleep and then abruptly awake so many times that he's completely lost his time sense. The way his stomach's growling, he's pretty sure he's missed a couple of meals, maybe a day's worth. He's been known to work straight through a twenty-four hour period on occasion, but there's always coffee and chocolate involved in the all-nighters, and more importantly, something to _do,_ something to occupy his mind, and this is just a whole lot of nothing, and he's thirsty and confused and he'd kill to be able to sleep for just a few minutes. 

He clenches his jaw, telling himself it doesn't matter. He's just uncomfortable, that's all. It's temporary. Nothing, really, compared to being blown up with Replicators. Stupid to think about that now, he thinks, having that on the top of his brain when he knows it's exactly the kind of thing they're looking for. He struggles to bury it under something harmless, like the list of pending reference requisitions he has sitting on his desk.

"I've told them I don't know anything more than what I put in my report," Daniel says, trying hard to meet the General's eyes, made all the more difficult since they took his glasses, and the man's nothing but a blur. He hasn't broken, he's sure of that, but if this goes on much longer, he can't be positive that he won't. He tries to convey that fear without words, and the General's supportive hand on his shoulder tells him he succeeded.

"Try and hold on, son," he says grimly.

"Yes, sir," Daniel replies resignedly as the General leaves. His chin falls wearily to his chest, then he raises his head, shaking it vigorously to clear out many of the cobwebs as he can. He tries to remember the overview of his first Master's thesis verbatim, hoping that'll buy him a few minutes of concentration. Something safe to think about that won't be a problem if he mumbles it out loud in front of the goons.

*****

"Thanks," Daniel says acerbically, working his bruised jaw. "I needed that."

The only thing missing from this drama is the clichéd rubber hose. He finds himself wishing for it, a change of pace from Thing One and Thing Two's standard backhand across his face. Something to keep him alert and awake; something other than the pervasive, unrelenting agony of mind-numbing fatigue.

He repeats his story about the Asgard S&R over and over again to the unappreciative crowd, hoping the sound of his own voice will help keep him aware. It seems like a good idea, after all, because how're they going to check his story? And Thor _was_ responsible for him being here in a roundabout sort of way, and he sure as hell can't tell them the truth. 

He dozes off again, and is abruptly brought awake by the ever-present slap across the face which is followed this time by the nauseating stench of Old Spice.

"Well, Doctor Jackson," Kinsey says jovially as he strolls into the room. "I'm sorry it took me so long to welcome you back personally!"

Daniel groans, then grinds his teeth. "I. Don't. _Know_ anything."

"You may not," Kinsey allows. "Or you may just not realize you do."

Daniel shakes his head. "You made a trip for nothing."

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about my travel arrangements," Kinsey says with a smile. "The taxpayers footed the bill, and they're happy to do it because they know I'm looking out for the best interest of this great nation."

Even without his glasses, Daniel can see the smug expression on his face, and as tired as he is, he can't resist poking just a little. "The citizens of this great nation support your flagrant violation of the constitution and the trampling of my civil right to due process?"

Kinsey grins. "It's a little thing called The Patriot Act, Doctor Jackson, and it has a fairly broad definition of 'credible threat'. I just came to _personally_ escort you to Nellis, so we can get to the bottom of your little memory problem."

"I don't _have--"_

"You were an ascended being, Doctor Jackson," Kinsey snaps, all phony pleasantries gone. "That position had to come with a lot of perks. I want to know what kind of power they have and how we can contact them, because I don’t buy the ‘helping the Asgard’ story for a moment."

"You've got it backwards; you don't call the Ascended, they call you." He glances away. "Or in your case, not so much."

"Y'know," Kinsey says with a casual air. He paces around the chair Daniel's tied to as he looks down his nose at him. "I have a suspicion that you aren't killable. I'm willing to bet if I let these gentlemen kill you right now, you won't actually _completely_ die."

And suddenly, even through the fog of exhaustion, Daniel sees Kinsey's plan. And he's certain that if he leaves the SGC with Kinsey, he won't be back. Ever. "Are you willing to bet my life on that?"

"Oh, absolutely. For the greater good of this great nation and our God-fearing way of life? Yes, Doctor Jackson, you're completely disposable. If harnessing the power and knowledge you have at your fingertips can be used to protect my country, then I'm quite willing to do that. Quite willing indeed." He gives Daniel's shoulder a condescending pat and signals the goons to let him out. "I'll just see how that transfer paperwork's coming."

Daniel drops his chin to his chest, knowing he's just heard his own death sentence. Kinsey will kill him to try to force an intervention by an ascended being in order to attempt to bargain or threaten his way to information. It's a stupid plan, but Kinsey's never really been all that bright. He won't try it here though, Daniel's pretty certain of that. But if they're able to move him it's all over, because he knows Oma won't help him again. If Kinsey's goons kill him, he's dead for good.

His heart pounding, Daniel's mind races on the strength of the adrenaline, and he wonders again where Jack is.

He's startled to full alertness when the door opens and his pulse speeds up, knowing instinctively that he’d been asleep, and wondering why they’d allowed it. He's desperately hoping that it's Jack come to tell him he's taken Kinsey out. He resolutely continues to stare at the gray concrete floor, mute, heart thumping wildly until he can't take the silence anymore and he glances up to see that it's the General, not Jack. Still, the relief of seeing a friendly face is nearly crippling. "Sir, I can't--" his jaw snaps shut, nostrils flaring with the effort of trying to stay conscious, and not blurt out something damning simply because he can't tell the difference between awake and asleep anymore.

"Try and stay with me a few more minutes, son," George replies softly, reaching to pat his shoulder. 

His gentle words are not in keeping with the vicious thumb Daniel feels digging underneath his collarbone. The brief jolt of pain clears his head and brings him into the present with a gasp, eyes wide, mouth dry. "Gaah - yeah; yeah, I'm here."

At that moment, there's a blinding flash of light and Thor beams in, seated in his command chair. Daniel's jaw drops open in disbelief.

"Greetings, General Hammond."

"Thor," George replies easily, turning to face his visitor, supportive hand still on Daniel's shoulder. "This is a surprise. I'm sorry, but as you can see, this is a bad time."

Daniel blinks, his face a mask of confusion. Thor's dead. He thinks all of the Asgard are dead. They must be, but... he's not supposed to know that, because it's a secret. He swallows hard. "I don't--" Hammond's firm squeeze on his shoulder silences him.

"Well, isn't this convenient," Kinsey smirks, stepping into the room. "An encore performance from General Hammond's pet Asgard. Frankly, I was hoping for a visit from one of the Ascended, but," he shrugs at the seated alien, "you'll do."

Ignoring Kinsey, Thor says, "I have come to request the assistance of Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson once again. We have discovered yet another planet nearly decimated by the Goa'uld; there are a handful of survivors who require immediate evacuation. Doctor Jackson, are you ill?"

Unable to move due to the restraints, Daniel blinks and frowns and tries to look alert. He just wishes he could understand why... how... "What? No, I'm not... ill. I'm just a little tired--"

George draws himself up to his full height. "On the contrary, Thor. Doctor Jackson is badly hurt, thanks to Senator Kinsey. He's been attempting to torture this man to gain information about yourself and the Ascended to use in the pursuit of personal power and greed. In fact, I was just on my way to contact the Joint Chiefs to make a formal complaint to the leaders of our government to ask that they intervene in this matter. Would you care to accompany me?"

Thor remains as impassive as ever. "I would indeed, General Hammond. I should like to discuss the Protected Planets Treaty with them. If Senator Kinsey's behavior is indicative of the treatment the citizens of your world receive from one another, it is my belief that your planet may not qualify for Asgard protection from the Goa'uld after all."

"What?" Kinsey sputters. "You can't remove-- This country needs _more_ protection, not less!" he bellows.

Hammond takes a step toward the taller man. "Senator Kinsey, your actions here today may have cost every country _on this planet_ the protection of the Asgard," George snarls. "I wouldn't start writing your inaugural address just yet, if I were you."

Kinsey snaps his fingers at the goons, then swings a boney hand in Daniel's direction. "Release him!"

"Don't you lay a hand on him," George says, warning dripping from every quiet word. He crosses to the phone on the wall and picks up the receiver, punching in the code for the control room. "Walter, have Doctor Fraiser send a medical team with a gurney up to detention one, and send a six man team of SFs to guide the Senator and his associates out of my mountain."

*****

As soon as Hammond'd called him, Jack'd drafted Carter for Jaws duty and hi-tailed it down to the infirmary.

“You look like shit." 

"Why, thank you, Jack." Janet's checked him over and let him shower and offered him food, which he declined. All he wants to do is sleep. A lot. He has no energy with which to spar with Jack, but he knows this is the way the man processes his rage, and so he'll try for as long as he can.

"I think your bags might have some luggage of their own."

"I haven't slept in seventy-some hours --or, I guess, two and a half weeks, depending on how you look at it, so wha'dya expect?" He waves a hand toward the location of the parked wheelchair, which causes a mighty twinge of fire across the front of his left shoulder, and a pained gasp escapes his cracked lips. _This_ causes his lip to bleed again, and he thinks if he swallows any more blood he's gonna hurl.

Jack's nostrils flare and his teeth grind, and he yanks a wad of tissues from the dispenser and hands them over. He's been trying to keep it light for the kid's sake, because he's got some spooky kind of baby ESP that seems to pick up every one of Jack's emotions. But he's been tearing his hair out in that little VIP room for the last eighteen hours, and just looking at what they did to Daniel makes his blood boil. 

Jack has a momentary vision of slamming Kinsey up against the concrete wall, his hands clenched around that crêpey throat, squeezing just hard enough to restrict his airway and panic him, maybe make him piss himself, but not enough to allow unconsciousness, and he's _this_ close to throwing his career into the tank and going for it, because that kind of evil has to be stamped out. "Someone needs to--"

"This is what we wanted, remember?" Daniel points out softly from where he's perched on the edge of the infirmary bed. Janet's letting him go, but only provisionally, so that he can sleep somewhere quiet. The bruises will fade in a week or so; the stretched ligaments might take a little more time. There is nothing she can give him beyond a mild muscle relaxer to help him get back to sleep when the pain inevitably wakes him.

"They got their pound of flesh and Thor-Hammond-somebody, I _still_ don't get that part-- put the fear of angered aliens into them." The yawn is jaw-cracking and he just wants to escape into the oblivion of sleep for as long as his bladder will let him. He's grateful that their decision to confine him to that chair made kidney punches a no-go, because pain or not, pissing blood sucks.

"They'll probably do their electronic stalking thing for a while, but at some point, when they've realized that I can't perform ascended miracles for them, they'll find someone else's rights to trample with the Patriot Act, and simply fuck off and leave us alone. Now just--" This yawn makes his eyes water, and dear god, he's so _tired._ "I can't argue with you anymore, Jack. Janet says there's no damage, okay? Just--" he waves at the wheelchair again, "drive me to my quarters and lemme crash for a couple of days and I'll be good as new, 'kay?" 

He lets Jack help him into the chair and then rests his elbow on the arm of it so he can plant his heavy face on his palm. Maybe just a little nap on the way there. "And then, when I wake up, you can explain the whole--" another hand flip, "thing with Thor..." He shakes his head because it seems too big to comprehend, but then he's feeling kind of stupid right now, so maybe after some sleep the puzzle of it won't look so daunting.

Jack turns the wheelchair carefully and heads for the elevator with his sleepy charge and tries to ratchet down his anger. "That was actually Hammond's idea; like the whole disclosure thing last year. Davis came from the Pentagon to hold France's hand, or something. China was pretty cranky too, come to think of it," he says with a frown as he pulls to a stop beside the elevator, and swipes his card. "And don't even get me started about the Russians."

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"The point?"

Jack drops a king-size Snickers bar into Daniel's lap while they're waiting for the doors to open. "Present from Jaws."

Daniel smiles as he tears open the wrapper and crams half of it into his mouth while Jack maneuvers him into the now-open elevator. "Tewel him tanks fohr me." 

"Will do. Anyway, Kinsey had all the reps stirred up and he was poised to pounce, when all of a sudden, Thor comes beaming in to the rescue."

"And this explains today how?" Daniel asks between bites.

"Carter's apparently a wiz in the editing room, along with her many other talents. Used the footage from the security cameras of last year's beam-in to create an image of Thor that was convincingly interactive."

"Huh. Enough to fool Kinsey."

"And the Joint Chiefs," Jack adds with gusto. "Hammond and Carter-Thor went ahead with the call to the Pentagon, and let me tell you, every one of those pencil-pushing sons of bitches sat up and barked. There's a real good chance Kinsey's finished politically."

"Wow," Daniel says sleepily. His quarters are in sight, and he's already imagining how cool the pillowcase will feel against his cheek, and he's not really tracking the thread of Jack's nattering as closely as he probably should be.

Jack slows the wheelchair to a stop in order to run his card through the reader outside Daniel's quarters. His smile is more than a little self-satisfied, because Kinsey being under investigation for Human Rights violations can only be a good thing. True, Jack wishes it could all be made public just for the added humiliation factor, but at least his political power's been nullified, and that's almost as good. "Yep. Couldn't happen to a more deserving snake."

*****

Daniel sleeps for the better part of three days in his on-base quarters one floor up from the VIP room Jack and the baby are using. Jack leaves him alone except to deliver trays of munchies, which Daniel seems to be consuming during his infrequent bouts of consciousness. He finally surfaces, rested, ravenous, and needing a shave. 

SG-1 is paged to Hammond's office just as Daniel finishes inhaling his second serving of some casserole he doesn’t bother to taste on its way down. He's _famished._ He's still scraping the sauce off the plate with the side of his fork as Jack lifts the entire tray out from under him and carries it off to the tray return. Daniel barely has time to toss his fork onto the plate and rescue his mug of coffee before Jack's out of range with the lot.

"We'll come back for dessert after we see what the General needs," Jack says easily, as he heads for the Commissary door. "Promise. Now let's go."

Daniel takes a final swig of his coffee, then sets the cup on the cart and hurries to catch up. "Prolly shoulda shaved, huh?" he asks rhetorically, giving his bristly cheek a scratch.

Jack slides his card into the reader at the elevator and turns to appraise the other man. Showered, but hair not in any way tamed, bewhiskered, and in uniform. His t-shirt's even tucked in, so he's most of the way there. Plus, Jack knows the general has something of a soft spot for Daniel. "I'm pretty sure he'll cut you a break, considering you've only just re-joined the land of the living. Again." 

They step into the waiting car, one after the other, and then Jack cocks his head to one side and stops the mechanism from closing just as Sam jogs up and slides in between the stalled doors. "Safe!" Jack declares with a wave of his arms and a flourished poke of a button sending them on their way.

With a grin, she replies, "Thank you, Sir." She turns toward Daniel. "You look like you feel pretty good."

"I feel like Rip Van Winkle." He yawns, as if to prove the point, making his split lip crack open. He pokes the cut with his tongue. "Ow." Frowning, he gingerly dabs the cuff of his jacket against the sore and examines it for blood, then produces a tube of lip balm from his pocket and smears some on the injury. "What'd I miss while I was out of it?" he asks, capping the stick with a muffled pop.

"About three dozen _really_ nasty diapers," Jack grumbles.

"You mean you didn’t save 'em for me?"

"Ewww?"

"Speaking of which…" Daniel looks around the elevator, then squints in Jack's direction. "Aren't we missing somebody?"

"You mean to tell me you just now noticed how quiet it is?" Jack demands. "How un-drooled-on I am? How fresh the air smells?" As if to punctuate his point, Jack inhales deeply through his nose, then coughs dramatically.

"Sorry," Daniel says blandly. "I guess that casserole didn’t agree with me after all..."

Shaking her head, Sam chuckles under her breath and leaves them to it when the doors finally open. They follow her out and make their way to Hammond's office, where Teal'c is already waiting.

"No, seriously, Jack, where's..."

"Jaws? He's with Fraiser. _Again._ She says it's his 'regular sixteen day well baby checkup'." The air quotes address Jack's firm belief that Janet's simply making up reasons to play with the kid. He snorts, "Like she's fooling anybody."

"Close the door, Colonel," Hammond says easily.

"Yes, sir." Afterwards, he takes the last open chair, next to Daniel.

"I thought you'd all like to know that Senator Kinsey will be officially dropping out of the Presidential race at a press conference this afternoon, where he will cite 'family concerns' as his reason for returning to civilian life."

"It really burns me he's getting off so easy," Jack says tightly. "After what he did to Daniel--"

"They can't prosecute him for any of that," Daniel says reasonably. "Not without outing the program."

Jack continues to grouse, as if Daniel hadn’t interrupted him just when he was getting warmed up. "--slimy, good for nothing, pencil-dicked--"

"And--" Hammond interrupts firmly, to forestall what he knows to be the Colonel's lengthy list of the politicians' more colorful attributes, "with Kinsey and his NID connections out of the picture, a lot of the heat will be off the three of you."

"Yeah," Daniel says with a nod in Jack's direction. "That was the plan, remember? In a way, Kinsey going all medieval on my ass actually helped us."

Jack grunts his reluctant agreement. "When do you think it'll be safe for us to leave the mountain, General?"

"I was thinking this afternoon might work," he says with a sly grin.

"Really?" Jack says, blinking in disbelief. He's asked the question so often in the last couple of weeks that he's stunned that freedom is right around the corner. He wasn’t expecting that answer, and is totally unprepared with any kind of snappy rejoinder. He feels as though he may cry with relief, and clenches his jaw to head that off.

"I've asked Major Carter to work with a friend of mine who owns Spencer's Security, to come up with protective measures that will suit your needs. She and Chet have given me a list of technology they believe will allow you two to raise the child, as free from concerns about politically motivated reconnaissance, as Earth's current state of technology will allow. I signed off on it earlier this morning."

Jack glances past Daniel to where Carter sits grinning. "Wait till you see some of the stuff we're going to install, sir. It'll knock your socks off."

Nervously, Daniel looks to Jack, and waits for him to put a stop to it. The two of them haven’t come to any kind of agreement about co-parenting Jaws, because there hadn’t been any time, and now, the General's paying to outfit Jack's home with all manner of safeguards, assuming they're all going to be living together. He knows Jack's going to be pissed about being backed into a corner about this, making it all that much more difficult to have any kind of meaningful dialogue about it any time in the foreseeable future. 

Daniel lets the moment stretch out as long as he can stand it, and when he sees Jack begin to tear up, he has to say something to him off the hook. Clearing his throat to draw everyone's attention away from Jack, he starts, "General we haven’t--"

"What Daniel means, sir," Jack hurries to cut in with his own cleared throat, "is that we should probably let Carter and her team finish whatever it is they're gonna do before we try and set up housekeeping. As you know, I was expecting to have to move offworld before Daniel here pulled his Lazarus act, so I don’t have a real crib, or a car seat, or any of the amenities, really--"

"Janet and Jodi and I took care of all that," Carter says with a gleam in her eye. "Your son has everything a baby could possibly need from his three adoring Aunts. Except of course, a name." 

She waits for her CO to give her the inevitable raised eyebrows, to which she replies, _"Sir."_ And then adds, "I've drafted Teal'c to help with moving and assembly." She nods to Hammond. "With your permission, sir."

"You have it, Major."

Teal'c rumbles acquiescence, then offers, "I have witnessed their selections and I have my doubts, O'Neill, that your small abode will be able to contain all that these women have acquired. It is a formidable amount of equipment for one small Tau'ri."

Daniel doesn’t address Teal'c's wry observation because he's still looking with disbelief at Jack. Their eyes meet, and Jack gives him just the tiniest tilt of his head before his gaze slides away and he speaks to Teal'c's concern. 

"Are you kidding? I'm so grateful I don’t hafta try to go shopping for all that crap, I'm willing to have an addition built on to handle it." 

He turns to Carter. "How long will the security installation take?"

"Four or five days," she replies, "a week at the outside. By that time, Teal'c and I should have all the furniture assembled."

Hammond nods his approval. "And so that you three won't be underfoot while Major Carter has her way with your home," he reaches into the top drawer of his desk and retrieves a key ring with three keys on it, and places it on the desk in front of Jack. "You and Doctor Jackson and the child will spend that week at Chet's place up in Alma, about two hours northwest of here at the base of Hoosier Pass. He's owed me a few favors over the years, and this seemed a good time to collect on a couple of them. Because the house is in the middle of nowhere and stands vacant six months out of the year, the whole place is decked out with all the latest security gear. There's a decent view off the back deck and one of the forks of the South Platt runs right through his eighty-six acres for a considerable distance. I think you'll find it very relaxing."

Jack's swamped by a rush of emotions he's not ready for, and reaches out for the key ring, stuttering, "I-I don’t know how to thank you sir, this is really..."

"Above and beyond," Daniel finishes for him. 

"On the contrary, Doctor Jackson. For what you and Colonel O'Neill have given the SGC since its inception, not to mention your personal trials of the last few weeks, a few days respite in a peaceful place is the least a grateful, if unaware, planet can do to repay your loyalty and selflessness."

There's silence in the General's office for a full ten seconds while all eyes are on Jack, who looks utterly dumbfounded at this turn of events. "C'mon," Daniel says with a tilt of his head toward the door. "Let's get this vacation on the road. We'll need snacks," he states as seriously as he can, coming to his feet. "And coffee, of course."

That seems to nudge Jack out of his temporary stasis. "Oh, no ya don’t. If I can't have coffee, neither can you, Bucko."

*****

They leave Jaws with the aunts and head for Jack's house so he can pack a bag, then hit Daniel's place afterward. By mutual agreement, they detour to the Safeway on Academy Drive to stock up on provisions on their way back to the mountain. 

Jack relents to Daniel's wistful expression as they pass the coffee aisle. "Oh, all right, Daniel, one bag. But you hafta let me at least sniff the pot."

Eagerly, Daniel agrees, and tosses two packages of Double Stuff Oreos into the cart to help Jack choke down the milk Janet wants him to drink.

Back at the mountain, Teal'c figures out the carseat anchoring, and installs the recently-fed infant who can't seem to take his eyes off the big, shiny forehead in front of him.

Armed with six bags of rations, the baby monitor, and a duffle bag apparently full of brand-new baby clothes, the three of them are on the road to Alma by noon. Strapped under a tarp in the bed of Jack's truck, is a foldable bassinet-looking thingy and two cases of paper diapers. 

The kid's a dream in a moving car, and he and Daniel nap for most of the trip up there. Jack relaxes into the drive with a smile, and feels the stress of the last two and a half weeks being left behind with every mile he puts under his wheels.

*****

The driveway is a mere suggestion of a gravel road off to the left after the county road dead-ends rather unspectacularly two hours later. He thought at first it was merely a game trail, until he saw the timbers which had been placed carefully over the narrowest part of the waterway which he figures must be the South Platt Hammond had mentioned. 

Hoosier Pass rises in the near distance, a mere foothill compared to the Rockies in his own back yard, but between here and there it's green and open, and not thirty stories underneath a mountain. Jack loves the place on sight. 

He nudges Daniel, who blinks and squints in the low afternoon sun and adjusts the visor to block the glare until he can actually see out of the windshield. Jack watches him glance over his shoulder at the mirror Carter's affixed to the rear of the back seat for baby reconnaissance, and he flashes Jack a thumbs up indicating the kid's still out like a light.

After about a mile of slow going --gravel's hell on the paint job, and he's not in that much of a hurry to get there-- they round a curve and through the trees, finally, a building is in sight. It looks like a simple, one-story log cabin which has been stained a dark reddish brown. Light-colored decking picks up where the driveway ends, seeming to encircle the house. They disengage the carrier from the anchored docking station in total stealth, and, with their still-sleeping baby, begin to explore.

The reason for the surrounding deck becomes abundantly clear the minute they step into the house. The structure's been built into a hillside and it's a lot bigger than it looks; there's an entire second floor underneath the level they're currently on. 

The kitchen's on the entry level, as well as a large living/dining area, dominated by vaulted ceilings and a huge stone fireplace at one end. Floor to ceiling windows make up the back of the house, letting in abundant sunshine and a stunning view. Jack takes in the scene in a glance, then locates the alarm box and disarms the timer with ten whole seconds to spare. He throws the manual door lock and then follows Daniel and the kid past a set of steps and down the hall, threat-assessing as they go.

Turns out there're two bedrooms and one and a half baths on this floor. Downstairs are two more bedrooms and another full bath, along with a laundry room, an extensive rec room long enough to bowl in, for cryin' out loud, and which eventually opens out onto a flagstone patio complete with a grill and hot tub. 

In the yard, which is more scrubby wilderness than any deliberate intent to tame the natural vegetation, visible game trails can be seen from the Pass in the distance, crisscrossing the meandering body of water which Jack can see sparkling from here, right up to the edge of the patio. He wonders if they could rig some kind of infant carrier he could wear, because he'd really like to see if there's fish in that river, but the bucket thing the kid's in now wouldn’t be very practical for hiking through the underbrush.

It's no cabin in Minnesota, but Jack thinks he could really learn to like it here.

*****

"This is nice," Daniel says with a yawn. They've dragged two of the deck chairs into the sun in order to stay warm while they're enjoying the view, and Daniel's pretty sure he's dozed off a couple of times since they've been out here. He really should start thinking about getting something together for their last dinner before they head on out in the morning, but he's so comfortable and relaxed right now, he doesn't want to move. 

And besides, even though all this fresh air has helped tire the kid out, they've probably only got about twenty minutes left before they have to handle another changing/feeding event, and he can't really muster the energy it would take to handle cooking at the moment. He figures he can put it off a few more minutes and deal with it after he hands the baby off to Jack for the afternoon feeding. "Really nice. Quiet. Peaceful."

"Fishing's lousy," Jack reports sourly.

He turns to stare at Jack's profile. "What're you talkin' about? The river's teeming with fish."

"'Swhat I mean. Really puts a damper on the whole fishing experience, all that reeling in and throwing the fish back and stuff." He waves a hand dismissively. "Way too active for me."

Daniel rolls his eyes and changes the subject. "This last week really sped by."

"Yep."

"I think we should probably spend a few minutes, y'know, discussing stuff, don't you?"

"Discussin' what?"

"The whole--" He shouldn’t have thought that just because they were away from the mountain that Jack would be any better able to express himself. He tries a different tack. "Hammond's outfitting your house in the Springs with security stuff because he assumes we're going to be living together, and sharing custody and all that involves. If that's not what you want, you need to speak up now, so that we can set him straight as soon as we get back."

"Well, that's blunt," Jack observes wryly.

"Because subtle works so well with you."

Jack sighs and scans the distance looking for wildlife. He doesn't have any more idea how to say this now than he did seven days ago. It's been a relaxing week, and the whole, trading off child care duties for occasional peace and quiet thing has worked out surprisingly well. The first thing Jack'd done with his newfound freedom was to take a shower. A long one. With the door closed. One of the simple pleasures he once took for granted before Jaws came along. If Daniel truly wants to help, then Jack has no problem with letting him.

But there's the bigger picture to consider, and he knows they need to get started with that, no matter how awkward the 'getting there' part of it is.

"Okay, here it is. I'm old, and I don't change easily. I seem to have--" He looks away, makes a face, shakes his head to dismiss about a hundred potential conversation starters, winces at the total lack of bright ideas, takes a deep breath, lets it out in a big, disgusted rush, and closes his eyes altogether. He decides this is not the best plan he's ever had and girds himself to try again.

"Jack--"

Face contorted in an annoyed grimace, he holds up a hand. "Don't _say_ anything, for cryin' out loud. I've finally got some momentum here. You'd better let me finish."

Daniel isn't sure that the painfully aborted attempt he just witnessed counts as momentum, but obviously Jack has a different opinion on that. 

"I apparently have... feelings... for you which are not strictly within regulation. They've been heading toward seriously inappropriate and wrong for a while now, and there's no amount of Asgardian excuses that'll make them _not_ wrong, but that's really my issue, not yours." 

Heart pounding, Daniel watches the rapidly-changing expressions skirt across Jack's ruggedly handsome features, and decides not to add to his discomfort by trying to make him feel better. There'll be time for that later. There'll be time for _everything_ later, because this is sounding like the first tiny step away from denial, and it's more than he could've hoped for.

"I was brought up to believe that men didn't--" he shakes his head again. He remembers fishing with his granddad when he was old enough to hold a pole, and wonders what the old man would have to say about him and a baby _he gestated,_ moving in with a man he's sorta, kinda... _Crap._

For that matter, what would his mom say? _Sara,_ for godsake. He'll have to tell her eventually, and he thinks maybe they should re-examine the offworld options again, because that's one conversation he'd _really_ rather not have. He never could lie to her, and he'd never had to; thanks to the clandestine nature of his job, it all came with a ready-made excuse. But he knows that there's no way that 'top secret' plus 'baby' is going to be an easy sell, because the woman's as sharp as a tack.

"Well, men just didn't. And years and years and _years_ in the military have reinforced that opinion, DADT notwithstanding, and that's just the way I am. It's not something..." He blows out another disgusted breath, because he's being the biggest coward on the planet at the moment, and finally forces himself to meet Daniel's eyes no matter how hard this is for him to say this stuff to the man's actual face. He's promised Jaws he won't chicken out again, and Daniel deserves as much painful, soul-ripping honesty as Jack can give him.

"I don't know what can come of it. Maybe nothing more than just--" he passes a hand back and forth between them, indicating the close partnership they've started to craft around the baby Thor gave them. "This right here. But I thought you should probably know that I... I don't hate you."

Daniel understands what its cost Jack to voice his deeply conflicted thoughts out loud, to feel not in control in the most basic of ways, and he allows himself a tiny smile and a nod of acknowledgement. The fact that Jack's been able to find some measure of acceptance is huge. And it makes everything Daniel's had to go through to get here --getting blown up, the weeks in limbo, and the Kinsey thing-- completely worth it. _This_ was worth dying for.

"I'm glad, Jack," he says softly. "A kid's parents really shouldn't hate each other."

*****

**Six months later.**

"Daniel!"

 _"What?"_  
  
"Keep an ear out for Jaws, willya?" Jack calls out as he takes the steps two at a time. "There's an article I wanna read in _Aeronautics Today_ before you head out."

"Remember what happened last time you got lost in a magazine story," Daniel warns from the kitchen. "Both your feet fell asleep and you couldn't even get off the john by yourself."

"Yes, dear," Jack smirks under his breath as he disappears into the bathroom with the magazine tucked under his arm. Life's good. More than good. The last six months have been a rollercoaster of changes that sometimes sneak up on him and leave him breathless.

After breakfast on the last morning of their vacation, they'd spent some time discussing baby names. Jack suggested FRED, to which Daniel had replied, "Good idea, Jack, how about MALP for a middle name?" They talked about meanings and grandfathers and countries of origin, and things got a little heated.

"We're not naming him THOR, Daniel, and that's my final word on the subject!" 

He may have sounded a little testy right about then, but who could blame him? Thor? Seriously?

In the end, they'd stood on the deck of the borrowed red cabin and shouted the short list of names in the direction of Hoosier Pass one at a time, discarding those that didn't sound cool when bellowed. 

Then they packed up little Liam and headed back down the county road into downtown Alma, Colorado, pop. 274. They decided to stop for lunch at the South Park Saloon down on North Main Street before heading home just because Jack was tickled by the name.

"We could spend some time arguing about last names," Jack says quietly around a mouthful of toasted ham and cheese, "but I should probably mention I already filled out the surname part before you came back. In pen."

In the bottom of the duffle bag they'd found a blue, toga-like carrier, which took them two days to figure out how to use. It's now strapped securely to Daniel's chest, and Liam is snuggled contentedly inside it, happily ignoring the discussion his fathers are having, preferring instead to gnaw on his left wrist.

"I assumed--" Daniel blinks down at the baby and then back up to Jack and then his expression scrunches up into a grimace of confusion. He leans forward as far as he can without squashing the infant against the table and whispers, "Wait. You decided on the last name, but kept calling him Jaws?"

Jack shrugs. "It was the only thing I knew for sure." 

Daniel doesn’t even try to hide his eye roll of frustration as he sits back, popping three curly fries into his mouth all at once. "Well, that's okay, since I happen to agree he should have your name, anyway."

Jack winces. "Hmmm..."

"What hmmm...?

"Gave'im your name."

"You-- what?"

Jack looks around the mostly deserted saloon before he replies, "I figure I carried him for... six-- no, wait, seven-- whole hours, and I knew he was mine. Got the stretch marks to prove it." He resumes the attack on the deliciously melty sandwich, and once his mouth is good and full, adds with a shrug, "Besides, Jack's son. _Duh."_

Daniel sits there, mouth hanging open, seemingly in shock. Jack feels the warning prickle behind his eyeballs just as the other man finally manages a choked-up sounding, "Jack..."

"He's a Jackson, so get over it," Jack snaps gruffly, pointing to Daniel's fruit cup. "You gonna eat that?" Daniel waves him toward the side dish without comment. Jack can’t really explain why he'd given their baby Daniel's last name while he was MIA. It was a totally girly thing to do and, now that he's confessed it, he feels pretty stupid for having given into the impulse. He figures a quick change of subject is in order. 

"Mmmmm, pears," Jack murmurs stickily. "You wanna maybe re-think 'Dexter' as a first name? Because I totally think it fits." He sets his spoon down and holds up both hands as though framing a theatre marquee. "Dex Jackson, superhero."

Daniel suddenly sporfles root beer all over the kid's head, which Jack thinks is pretty damned funny and completely worth it.

It'd been a shining moment, Jack remembers fondly. And it doesn't much matter anyway, because Jack still calls him Jaws more often than not, and Daniel's finally stopped correcting him on it. 

The first night back from vacation, after they'd put Liam down for the night, Jack had collapsed tiredly on the couch, letting his bare feet clonk noisily onto the coffee table. 

"We need a cover story," he announces as he lets his head drop back against the cushion. They're due at the mountain at 0900 tomorrow, and he's exhausted from the drive and the fresh air and the scene on the deck. He's looking at about three hours' worth of forms to get his retirement started. He wonders if they can just photocopy the last set and put a new date on it. Except-- this one's different. This one will stick. "We need a plausible reason why Colonel Jack O'Neill would retire to take care of an alien baby." 

"Well," Daniel hedges from across the room. He glances up from his laptop and clears his throat in a transparent attempt to buy time. "I'm not actually sure you should retire, number one, but the reason you'd choose to step down from a gate team, is to take care of the baby. Why isn't he reason enough?"

"That's--" Jack looks at Daniel like he's crazy, because clearly, he is. "That makes no sense! Unless, of course, you're making a case for me suddenly going off my gourd. Because based on my rank and experience, the idea of me suddenly turning housewife is pretty out of character."

"Is it?" Daniel asks softly. When Jack opens his mouth to continue to protest, Daniel holds up a placating hand and adds, "Not the housewife part, but think about it, Jack. You deciding at this stage of your life to step back from the action makes you look like a man who's finally ready to grieve for his dead son, which I believe you are. And it makes you look like a man who's trying to make cosmic amends by sharing himself and his life with an abandoned baby, which you are. I don't think we need to go out of our way to fabricate a story when the truth will serve us so well."

It occurs to Jack that when Daniel is at his quietest, is when you really have to watch your step. Unwilling to trust his voice, he just stares until he can swallow the lump of emotion he suddenly finds clogging his throat. 

"Truth," he snorts finally. "How have you managed to work in the military all these years with that kind of liberal, leftist-leaning attitude?"

"It hasn't been easy." With a deep sigh, Daniel crosses the room to take a seat next to Jack on the couch, hitching sideways a little and leaning an elbow across the back of it so he can prop his head on his upraised hand. "Seriously though, look at it this way; what better way to honor Charlie's memory, than to let him help us protect his baby brother?"

Jack's throat closes up altogether at that point, and he knows the waterworks are sure to follow. "Jesus, Daniel," he whispers, looking away.

Daniel's hand had closed over Jack's, giving it a supportive squeeze before releasing it and leaving the room to allow Jack some time to collect himself. And his damned hormones.

Jack opens the magazine and thumbs the glossy pages until he finds the article he's been wanting to read, then folds it back on itself. He's stopped resenting the fact that Daniel's usually right about most things because he's come to count on it, but he's careful not to let on, because he knows that would make the man insufferable. 

Jack's reluctant willingness to go along with the cover story doesn't do much to mitigate his total unhappiness with the retirement alternative. With Hammond's political help and grinningly eager blessing, half a dozen OF-612's are shuffled and crimped and fluffed, and in a single afternoon, Jack goes from being the Commander of the SGC's premier first contact team, to the carved-on-a-nameplate, office-entombed civilian Senior Program Analyst for Cheyenne Mountain. 

Christ on a cracker, he's agreed to be a glorified paper-pusher.

But he puts in seven and a half hours at the mountain with grown-ups, which is just enough time for him to start missing Jaws. That's the perfect balance, he's discovered, so he keeps his trap shut and counts his blessings.

He spends ends his days --0700 to 1430-- shuffling most of Hammond's paperwork and overseeing offworld training schedules and war game rotations. It's not ideal; he hates the very idea of a desk job. And once Liam's weaned and Jack gets his guy-body back, he plans to commute as many of those seven and a half hours as he can actually _at_ the Beta site, to personally whip new recruits into shape rather than managing supply requisitions. Poor Walter ends up correcting a lot of the ones Jack puts out, because he's really much better at those anyway. 

In the meantime, he works hard on tightening up his pregnancy-loosened abs and tries to think positively about the eventual return of his manly pecs, because having to use that medieval breast pump every morning is freaking him right the hell out.

Jack realizes he's been day dreaming his reading time away and snorts in disgust, his eye catching sight of his still-jiggly belly. He scowls. Damn it. He doesn't remember it taking this long for Sara to get her figure back, and part of him's tempted to call her up and ask for advice. But that would lead to questions he couldn't answer, and he knows that wouldn't be fair to her.

There's a soft tap at the door. "Jack?"

Jack heaves a heavy sigh. He hasn't read a single word yet. And he's not going to tell Daniel he was right about his feet.

"I've got to head out in about ten minutes; you should probably start trying to flex your legs. Gimme a shout if you need a hand."

_Bastard._

Daniel's still on the SGC payroll, but not tied to SG-1 any longer. He's rarely at the mountain at all unless he's giving a pre-mission briefing, like this afternoon. Reynolds would've loved to keep him on the team he inherited, but he needs an Anthro-specialist who's willing to do first contact, and Daniel continues to hold firm to his decision to stay on Earth. He's apparently happy spending his days translating the findings other SG teams bring back, and Liam seems enthralled by the non-stop, multi-lingual chatter he's privy to from the comfort of his sling-thingy. 

Daniel says their son's a great listener. 

Jack's afraid English won't be his first language.

"Not a problem," he lies. "Two more paragraphs." He quietly sets the magazine on the counter near the sink, and rolls his left ankle experimentally, eyes watering from the twinges that movement sends up his leg. "Dammit," he mutters under his breath.

*****

"I've left the chicken marinating in the refrigerator, but you've got to think of something to fix to go with it," Daniel says, stuffing papers and other vitally important crap into his briefcase.

Jack stands watching him, with Liam on his hip. He catches himself starting to do the baby sway back and forth, and makes a conscientious effort to stand still. Liam vocally expresses his discontent with this plan, and Jack starts swaying again.

"Am I grilling the chicken?"

"You are."

"Then why am I in charge of the accessories too?"

Daniel suddenly stops paper-cramming, and glares at him. "Because there's very little intellectual stress, and absolutely no physical effort required to turning on the gas grill? Because I fixed dinner -- _including_ the accessories-- every night last week? Because if I get hit by a bus on my way to work tonight, you'll be glad I made you practice something more culinarily involved than dialing up delivery Egg Foo YOUNG!"

Jack frowns and straightens Liam's teething bib unnecessarily, just to escape the blue laser beams Daniel uses for eyes. "Coulda just stopped with 'because I said so'," he mutters under his breath.

"Yeah," Daniel laughs sharply, "that woulda worked."

Jack helps Jaws wave bye-bye to Daddy as he heads for the door, and Daniel doubles back to plant a loud raspberry kiss on the kid's neck making Liam giggle, and then leaves for real.

Jack's not sure why he feels let down. He thinks it's probably got something to do with the diaper the kid's been working on the last few minutes, because he can feel it leaking out the leg openings and he _told_ Daniel not to buy the cheap diapers! 

And of _course_ he just left, so Jack will have to handle this change too, and he doesn’t think Daniel's really been pulling his share, since most of the truly nasty diapers seem to happen when the man's not even fucking _home!_

"Wow," Jack says out loud. "Seems like Mom's feeling kinda bitchy today, doesn’t it, kiddo?"

Liam's only reply is to wriggle, sending the offensive leakage further down Jack's arm.

"O-ho-ho-KAY then!" Jack says with mock enthusiasm as he holds the dripping child at arm's length. "Looks like it's bath time for stinky babies!" This makes Liam giggle again, and Jack's sure this is the cutest kid on the planet, bar none, and that dimply little face pretty much cures his sour mood.

As he removes the ruined clothing --another load of wash to do-- he mulls on the fact that the kidd'll probably be old enough in the summertime to take into the back yard, strip down, and hose off all the crap. He remembers Charlie loved that game. 

He misses his first son something fierce, and since he and Liam are alone, he lets the tears come. He's sure this is hormonally-driven cosmic payback for all those years of pushing the painful memories into the back of his mind. Inevitable comparisons are being made every day, and his oldest boy's not far from his thoughts.

"You woulda loved your big brother, Jaws," he says, peeling off the last of the slimed garments, and scraping some of the worst of it off his fat little legs with a wipe 'n dry. "And he woulda been crazy about you." 

He throws on some protection in the form of a cheap washcloth Daniel had found at the big box store, fifty for ten bucks, so the kid doesn’t spray him on the way to the tub --remembered that lesson right quick-- and heads for the bathroom.

Liam's crib and other paraphernalia fill the tiny den that used to house Jack's desk and filing cabinet. The closet's still crammed with all of Jack's hockey gear, but since the kid doesn't have much yet in the way of clothing that needs hanging, and all his toys are in and around the playpen in the living room, Jack figures he won't care for a while. And anyway, the addition they're planning should be finished long before that's an issue, and he'll get his office back in the bargain. The three of them fit in the house the way it is, but Jack thinks that a little space to spread out might make it even better.

Jack runs the bathwater as he shoves Daniel's shampoo back into the corner out of the way.

He moved in right after they got back from their trip, with nothing but a couple of boxes of clothes and a bag of toiletries, because Jack still had all his books and precious rocks and crap stored in boxes in the basement from the last time he'd died. There was no fanfare. They did it themselves in an afternoon, just the three of them. Liam helped by being uncharacteristically content to watch them from his carrier as they straightened up the furnished apartment Daniel had leased right after Vis Uban, and then slept in only a handful of times before Thor's disaster. They turned in the key, applied for the return of the security deposit, and headed home to call out for pizza. No onions.

They rearranged the spare room some, so that the bed was pushed up against one long wall, making room for a pair of bookshelves they bought from Home Depot and assembled together one rainy afternoon. That way, Daniel could have some of his most precious crap right there with him.

They shop, pay bills, trade cooking and straightening up chores, and enjoy the hell out of their crash course in child-rearing.

After seventeen weeks, the black sedan stopped following them around, and after four months, the conspicuously inconspicuous panel van no longer lurked around the corner, and they relaxed a little. Life went on. Having regular hours was a particularly nice change of pace.

Sometimes in the evenings, they bundle Liam up and strap him into his carrier and go for a stroll through the neighborhood, or into the foothills on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Armed with a rucksack filled with baby supplies, they traipse through the tamer parts of the Colorado Wilderness as they reminisce, telling Liam all about the exploits of a fictional team of explorers called SG-1. 

Sam and Teal'c occasionally stop by to spoil the kid rotten, which Carter says is an Aunts' prerogative, and they each add their own embellishments to the tale. Liam eats it all up. He's especially fond of Uncle Teal'c's shiny hood ornament and rumbling Chulakian lullabies.

The very first week they were at home, Grandpa George opened up a college fund for him, and every time they go to the mountain for one of Liam's checkups and to visit, Janet and Jodi assure them that Liam is perfectly, adorably Human in every single respect. What more could they reasonably ask for?

Now clean and dry and dressed in matching Minnesota Vikings jerseys, they settle down for a feed. Jack's into the letdown reflex like a junkie looking for a fix, and once Jaws latches on, he allows his head to fall back against the recliner in order to give himself over to it completely. Peaceful. Utterly content. Inside their tech-sheltered home, they're totally safe and protected here, and for these few minutes with his baby in his arms, Jack doesn’t have a care in the world.

*****

Daniel took over the night feedings right away. 

He keeps the baby monitor in his room, and intercepts him before he can make a loud enough fuss to fully awaken Jack. He changes him and brings him into the bedroom, and with a gentle touch on Jack's shoulder, alerts him to the baby's presence beside him. 

While they're nursing, Daniel sits in the rocking chair in the corner of the dark room and waits. As soon as Jaws falls asleep and the room goes quiet, he retrieves the baby and sits with him in the rocker for a while. After a couple of burps, he returns the kid to his crib, and then goes to his own room for the rest of the night.

Sometimes Jack listens to Daniel whispering things to their sleeping son after he thinks Jack's asleep, fighting the increasingly tempting urge to ask him to stay. To climb in under the covers and just... stay.

He can't make himself imagine any further than asking the question, "You wanna stay?" Not even to guess how Daniel might respond. His mind simply won't go there.

His reliance on Daniel can be found in every area of their lives and not a day goes by that he isn't grateful for Daniel's help and patience with the little guy Jack still thinks of as Jaws, but that reliance is rapidly turning into something else. He's not sure what to think about that, except that the urge is just about a compulsion at this point, and he's not sure how much longer he can quash it. Watching Daniel handle Liam with such easy competence, like he'd been doing it for years, does something to him...

He finds himself watching Daniel's hands a lot.

Jack knows they have a good life, and the fact that it's shockingly reminiscent of his early years with Sara is what scares the crap out of him. It feels comfortable, and safe, and gently predictable, and Jack lives in fear that eventually, Daniel will want to get some kind of social life, because this _can't_ be enough for him. Thinking about watching Daniel get all fancied up for a night on the town, and possibly a _date,_ which might include some form of intimacy, makes Jack want to shoot something.

Daniel's attractive. Jack doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to understand that. He's spent the last seven years watching women throw themselves at him, and he's seen the offers made and --with a couple of notable exceptions-- either politely rebuffed or simply ignored. But sooner or later, Daniel's going to stop disregarding the offers and--

And that's where Jack's blood pressure shoots right up through the roof. Envisioning Daniel touching someone romantically. Sexually. Someone else's hands on him. Someone else getting all of Daniel's focused attention.

Jack knows this makes him sound like a jealous wife, and he hates the feeling even more than he hates the label. 

It's a hell of a bad spot to be in; he doesn’t want anyone else to have Daniel, but he's not sure that he can offer himself, either. He's afraid to think about what that might mean. At fifty one, he's a little long in the tooth to be getting first date jitters, but he knows that losing Daniel –losing _this--_ is only a matter of time unless he gets the hell over them.

*****

It's a surreal situation Daniel's found himself in.

Playing stay-at-home dad to Liam every day while Jack goes to work, and then two or three afternoons a week, he's driving off to work, while Jack takes his turn at being the stay-at-home dad. The leaving part is becoming especially awkward, because, for whatever reason --hetero-normative programming, maybe, he'll have to research it-- when he sees Jack standing there holding their son as they watch him get ready to go out to earn a living, he's having to fight the instinct to kiss Jack goodbye.

He's pretty sure Jack will punch his lights out if he tries to play Ward to Jack's June Cleaver.

So he shoves the urge, and all the emotions that go along with it, into a box and pushes it way into the back of his mind, because he promised Jack that this would be a platonic deal, and he means to keep it that way. Jack's nothing if not perceptive, and Daniel doesn’t want to endanger what they have for even a moment's romantic musing, during which time Jack might accidentally pick up vibes that would be... problematic.

Considering that this arrangement has been more or less forced on Jack by Hammond's sweeping pronouncement back at the beginning, things have been working pretty smoothly so far. Midway through the first week, Daniel realized Jack's acceptance had turned a significant corner when he came home from Safeway to find that Jack'd bought those peel-n-stick letters from the hardware store and added Daniel's name to the mailbox.

It's _their_ mailbox now, the first thing that publically is, and the day it happened he'd wanted to do something to show Jack how deeply that small token had touched him. But he couldn’t think of a way to acknowledge the act that wouldn’t mortify the crap out of him, and so he didn’t mention it at all. He took it in stride and didn't embarrass the man by noticing it out loud. But every time he brings in the mail, seeing their names one atop the other, makes him smile.

If Daniel's days are full of cramming translations around the rhythms of child care, then the evenings represent every idea of hearth and home he's ever dared to have. He and Sha're had crafted dreams upon wishes upon hopes, and tried every folk remedy the village women suggested, to no avail. When Sha're bore the child of Apophis, he'd understood the implication that he was the infertile one, and quietly accepted the fact that he'd never father a child.

To then have one thrust upon him via his best friend is more than bizarre; having to talk Jack into _keeping_ the baby just about killed him.

On days that there aren’t briefings he needs to give, they eat dinner together as a family and alternate the evening baby bathing duties. On Mountain days, all of that's already done by the time he gets home, and he eats warmed up dinner as he listens to Jack getting Liam ready for bed. 

He's intensely grateful for this life that includes a strangely intimate, if chaste, relationship with the man he loves and the child of their bodies. But he feels guilty, harboring knowledge Jack doesn't remember he has. It’s taken him a couple of months to figure out what to do about it. He's decided that tonight's the night he comes clean.

*****

Jack leaves the door to Liam's room open just a crack, and heads for the kitchen. 

Daniel's there, leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest, examining the parquet flooring with some intensity. Jack knows that posture means 'we need to talk', and although it doesn’t a trigger the, 'Oh My God, I've Got To Get Out Of Here', response anymore, he finds he's not really in any hurry to discuss whatever bee is currently circling Daniel's bonnet, either.

He reaches past him to open the refrigerator in order to grab a Caffeine Free Coke. Nursing makes him incredibly thirsty, and although the Doc's still being an unreasonable nit about caffeine, she allows him one soda a day, and he saves it for right after the last feeding of the night so he can take his time and savor it.

He notices that Daniel's still staring at the same spot on the floor. This doesn’t bode well for the savoring.

He pops open the soft drink and chugs about a third of the can in one go. Okay, the rest, he'll savor. "Ahhh... Damn, that's good." 

He balances a hip against opposite counter and catches a glimpse of Daniel's rigid body language. He interprets it as disapproval of the Evil Demon Soda, and addresses it as tactfully as he can. "Oh, _what?"_ he snaps. "Janet said I could have _one._ You gonna begrudge me my _one?_ What are you--the soda police?"

Daniel unfolds his arms and raises both hands in surrender. "Not me. As long as it's not gonna keep him awake all night long, have a six pack for all I care."

Warily, Jack takes another self-satisfied gulp, then chastises himself for forgetting to do the savoring thing again. "So. What's with the..." he waves a hand at Daniel from head to foot, encompassing the body language that's represented by the posture he's assumed, which it seems Jack isn’t going to be able to ignore after all. 

Eyes once again resolutely glued to the kitchen floor, Daniel clears his throat and says, "I-uh... I heard you talking to the baby."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I do that. So d'you, if ya hadn’t noticed. He's gonna be talking back before ya know it. Real words. Won't be able to shut him up." He moves his shoulder again and takes another drink. "Kinda lookin' forward to that part."

"No, I mean... back at the beginning when he was a newborn and I was sort of ascended. I heard what you said. To him. About... me." His eyes dart up to meet Jack's, and then slide back to the really interesting wooden tiles.

Jack manages not to choke on his drink, but he feels his face color in embarrassment. He remembers laying with their baby, and coming to terms with his feelings for Daniel, who had disappeared with Thor and was presumed no-longer-living. He remembers saying the words out loud that he's felt for nearly two years now, and _still_ can't bring himself to say to the man's face, even though they're living together, for cryin' out loud. 

Stoically, he lifts his chin and admits to the sap, because this is as good a time as any to get this out there, and at least he didn’t have to actually _say_ it. "Good. Glad that's taken care of, then. I really hate repeating myself."

Eyes fixed firmly on his shoes, Daniel nods and heads out of the room.

Jack tracks the movement with just his eyes. "Uh, Daniel?" 

He stops and turns back toward Jack, arms still wrapped around his chest. "Yeah?"

With narrowed eyes, Jack glances around the room as though crucial details might be floating about the kitchen which would explain the last two minutes, because he's sure he's missed something. He blinks a few times, once it's clear no enlightenment will be forthcoming from any of the appliances, and then frowns in confusion. "What just happened?"

Daniel smiles indulgently. Jack hates that, because he already feels stupid; he doesn’t need Daniel confirming it with patient handling.

"I've leveled the playing field," he says gently. "My overhearing your confession unbalanced our relationship, and I couldn't in all good conscience continue to allow you to think your secret was still yours alone." He looks down, ashamed. "I told you the night I... un-ascended, but you weren't in any shape to retain it I guess. I probably should've said something sooner, but..." He shrugs an apology.

"So... not a secret," Jack says with a tilt of his head, figuring maybe this is a sign. ‘The Conversation' started itself, sort of. There's momentum, anyway, and he reasons it'll be easier to use it as a jumping off point than waiting some period of time to find a suitable opening and then having to start all over from scratch.

His heart's pounding, and he's having to strangle his fight-or-flight reflex, but he thinks maybe he's ready. Ready- _ish._ "Then...?"

Daniel shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets with an air of casualness Jack envies. "Then nothing. We're friends. That hasn't changed just because we're parents together now. Sharing a life with you and our son is all I'll ever need because it's so much more than I ever expected to have. I love you, and I know that you love me. And that's enough for me." 

Daniel's relieved that Jack isn’t freaking out, and that he doesn’t seem to feel exposed and vulnerable knowing that Daniel's known his true feelings all this time. He smiles again at Jack's slightly confused expression and says softly, "G'night, Jack," and turns to go to his own room to catch as many hours as he can before Liam wakes up.

Jack realizes instantly that ‘The Conversation’ is walking out of the room. Just as Daniel's about to cross the threshold of the dining room out into the hallway, he manages a weak-sounding, "Ye--ah, what if that's not enough for me?" A little more abrupt and challenging than he'd originally intended, but Daniel's stopped walking, so that's something.

Daniel turns again, slowly, and this time there're creases between his eyebrows, and Jack can feel the, 'what the fuck are you talking about', vibe beginning to roll his way.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Jack thinks the man sounds a little defensive, with good reason, and he fears he may have taken the wrong tack. He sets the Coke down and mirrors Daniel's hands-in-pockets stance, taking two steps closer to where the other man is stalled at the edge of the dining room. He's got the definite feeling that Daniel's ready to bolt, and if he does, Jack's too far away to prevent it. 

He checks his own physicality and dials down the confrontational stance a bit, trying to find something inside that'll let him overcome a lifetime of learned reluctance to laying himself open to an emotional attack. 

The vision of Daniel heading out the front door on his way to pick up a date whom he plans to take to bed, does the job pretty easily.

"So... status quo, then. You in your room and me in mine, and never the twain shall meet."

Daniel glances away, as though trying to remember the exact wording of their cohabitation agreement, such as it is, and then meets Jack's eyes. "That's essentially what I promised you."

"Yep. Ya sure did," he acknowledges. "And I appreciate that. But what if that isn’t what I want anymore?"

Daniel's shoulders straighten and his lips thin, and Jack thinks he's probably blown it.

"Of course it's what you want. You're straight. On Thor's ship? You were very clear on that point."

Jack winces as if struck, and he examines his own feet for a minute as a respite from Daniel's sharp tone. "Yeah, I sorta did, didn’t I?"

"There was no 'sorta' about it," Daniel replies tightly. 

From the corner of his eye, Jack sees him take a deliberate breath, and some of the tenseness drains away before he speaks again.

"I promise you; I won't take your words --what you told Liam when you thought I was dead-- I won't use them against you," he says earnestly. "This isn’t ransom."

"No, I get it. And if I believed that was your style, we wouldn't be standing here. What I'm saying is... I'm pretty sure I _want_ you to hold me to those words. I meant every one of them."

"You're not making any sense."

Jack runs his hand through his hair, then tries to scuff it back into some semblance of not goofy-looking. "No, no, I'm probably not. And I would KILL for a beer at the moment." Because it's started now, this ‘Conversation’, and it'll be awkward as hell if they don't finish it, and he'll be _damned_ if he knows _any_ of the right crap to say.

"Well," Daniel says slowly, "Janet didn’t actually forbid you from having beer, just liquor and caffeine. You could probably have one, especially since you've already finished the last feeding of the day. With any luck at all, he'll sleep through till 4:30 or 5:00. Most of the alcohol in your system will probably have metabolized by then."

 _"Eeeexcellent._ Join me?" Without waiting for an answer, he rushes back to the refrigerator and scores two beers from the bottom shelf, way in the back. He hands one to Daniel as he passes him on the way into the living room. With a snap of his fingers, the cap goes flying into the fireplace. "Three." He hasn’t lost it.

He drops onto the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, and with two hands brings the open bottle to his nose and inhales deeply. "Oh, baby, it's been sooo long..." He may actually be fondling the bottle. He doesn’t care.

Daniel cocks his head to the side as he removes the cap from his own bottle, and sticks it into his pocket. "Would you two like to be alone?"

"What? Shut up." He takes a sip, a savoring one, and holds it in his mouth, slowly moving the liquid around until his gums have all been coated with the yeasty goodness, then tips his head back and lets it run down his throat before he has to surrender to the swallow reflex. "Oh. My. _God."_

Daniel, having watched the orgasmic display, takes a long drink of his own beer and mutters under his breath, "Christ, I think I need a cigarette after watching that."

Jack pats the cushion beside him twice. With gusto. "Take a load off."

Moving into the room, Daniel takes the proffered seat. "What uh... what did you mean when you said, this isn’t what you want anymore?"

Jack notes the creases between Daniel's brows are back, and he figures the other man's already constructed half a dozen scenarios which are varying degrees of apocalyptic because that's just how his karma's run so far, and it's what he's come to expect from life. He'd like to hope that not only isn’t this discussion anywhere in that vein, that it's something Daniel will want, which is a good thing, because it seems that now that he's here, in the moment, he finds that he wants it very much too.

Making a conscious effort to look unthreatening, welcoming, even, Jack starts again.

"It's not what you're thinking, I'm pretty sure," he says. "So try and relax, okay?" He takes another sip of beer and lets the bubbles dance around on his tongue while he thinks about how to start this discussion. He's positive that if there was a way to deliver the information telepathically that would be his choice, but, barring the sudden appearance of nifty psychic abilities, he'll have to find actual words instead, and he hopes to hell he uses the right ones.

"Okay, here it is. I think I'm ready--" he stops, realizing that he's facing the fireplace, and adjusts his posture to the side so he's facing Daniel full on. He smiles, but it's a forced thing and probably terrifying, if Daniel's expression is anything to go by, so he dials it back a little.

There, he's in position now. He'll do this face to face to show Daniel that he's serious, and not just trying to pull a fast one. He thinks Jaws would be proud of his old man. 

He really wishes he'd planned this all out better.

"I think I'm ready for more," he repeats, this time with full eye contact. "Of us. I think that we've got a good start here, a solid foundation if you will, and together, we're giving the kid a good life so far. He seems to be happy and thriving." 

Even to his own ears, it sounds like he's promoting responsible wildlife conservation, or maybe just clean used cars, instead of suggesting a hot, sexy liaison right here in the living room. He realizes that he's in way over his head with this --after all-- he's never tried to seduce a man before, he simply doesn’t know the right lines to use. He throws up a white flag in the hopes that Daniel's instinct will let him come to his rescue, like he does all the other obviously helpless waifs he's ever come across during the time they've known one another. 

When there's no rescue forthcoming, he adds, "What I mean is, I don’t think I need to be afraid of this anymore," he says, as though that explains everything that's rolling around in his head at the moment.

Daniel's mouth drops open slightly as he lets Jack's words sink in. Jack wonders if he should just cut to the chase and plant a big, sloppy kiss right on him.

"Afraid of... this?" Daniel says in a slightly strangled voice. "Of me?"

"Us, Daniel," Jack snaps impatiently. "There's an 'us' here," he elucidates with a frown as he passes a hand between them. "There should be. I want there to be. It's time, for cryin' out loud."

Open-mouthed, Daniel just blinks for a long few moments. Meanwhile, Jack makes a concerted effort not to mention his strong resemblance to a small-mouthed bass, and waits as patiently as he can, stifling the urge to tap his foot to hurry things along. Because he's decided, enough already! What the fuck's taking Daniel so long to catch this clue bus?

"J-Jack... I don’t know why you think anything has to change just because... I mean, I've known about your feelings since before I actually came back. I told you that night in Teal'c's quarters, but you were so sleep-deprived that I guess it didn’t stick. I've known since that night, and I haven’t let it affect things between us so far. You can trust me, the fact that you now _know_ that I know, doesn’t necessitate any changes to our original agreement, I swear."

Jack just looks at him in bewilderment. How could Daniel be so damned dense? How can he _not_ have gotten it? He was clear, wasn’t he? What the hell does he hafta--

"People have relationships --partnerships-- all the time, and sex isn't a feature of it..." 

Daniel is speaking in his lecture voice now. He's apparently gotten over the initial shock and has moved into anthropology mode, which Jack knows will eventually bore him rigid. 

D'oh! Bad choice of words.

"…couples who've been married for years and no longer find themselves sexually attracted to one another, are still happy to be together, and want to make a home together, without having wild, rampant, athletic sex to prove it. It's possible. It's do-able. I'm willing to do that with you."

Jack nods slowly as though absorbing all of Daniel's completely rational words, and deeply regrets not just grabbing him and laying one on him the minute they sat down, because all this polite reasonableness is going to kill him if he doesn’t do something fast. 

He reaches out with the hand that isn’t holding his precious beer and cups Daniel's face. "I'm not willing to settle for that," he says slowly, enunciating each word carefully to minimize any chance of confusion. "And I don’t want you to have to settle for that either. Life's too short for both of us to be celibate. It's ridiculous and it's unnecessary. We love each other and sex is a natural extension of that." He grins at the other man's totally stunned expression and adds with a jerk of his head down the hall. "I'm ready. Let's go."

Daniel's clearly bowled over by Jack's excellent seduction technique now that he's gotten into the swing of it. The blue eyes widen at his touch, and Jack thinks the other man may even be leaning into his hand a little, which is cool as crap.

"You don’t have to do this," Daniel says, voice barely a whisper.

"Not being noble," Jack whispers back, "don't even go there. This is what I want."

Daniel covers Jack's hand against his cheek, and, with more than a little effort, rises from the couch to move across the room, away from Jack and his dangerous assumptions. He stares out the window at the yard beyond and tries to dampen the surge of terror that's rising in his belly. This place has been his home --for real-- for six months, and it hurts more than he can express that the life they've created here together now feels threatened.

"This isn’t real," he says softly, setting his mostly-full beer on the mantle.

"Okaaaay," Jack says slowly from the couch behind him. "So not the reaction I was hoping for."

"You're not thinking straight, Jack."

"Oh, really? Pun not intended?"

"No, pun completely intended."

"Well, I guess I've been put in my place then."

"It's not that," Daniel says, shaking his head sadly. He turns to face the couch. "I'm not trying to put you in your place. And I'm not-- god, Jack, I'm not rejecting you. But I can't lose what we have here." He has to make Jack understand, because everything's on the line here. "It works. It's amazing, and it's... it's everything to me. You and Liam, I can't give that up. Please don’t put that in danger. Please, I'm begging you."

Jack frowns. "Where the hell did you get all that?"

Daniel sighs. "When you said this wasn’t enough for you back there, do you know what I thought? I thought you were going to tell me you wanted to start dating. To find some woman to come here to… be a mother to Liam. Then where would I be? I'll tell you where, out on my _ass,_ because I wouldn’t be able to watch you play family with someone else."

"Jesus Christ, Daniel, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. _I'm_ his mother," Jack snaps. The words echo back to him in a strangely slow-motion way, causing him to frown. He glances up at Daniel and winces in embarrassment. "I can't believe I just said that."

"There! Do you see? See what I mean? The Jack O'Neill that _I_ know would never, _ever_ have said that. The difference is, right now, you're under the influence of some very, very powerful hormones, and I'm... convenient."

"That's not how it is," Jack insists.

"I don’t know that you're qualified to make that determination in your present condition."

"Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?"

Daniel folds his arms tightly across his chest and shakes his head firmly. "Can't risk it."

Jack holds his arms open wide; offering, inviting. "No risk. Foregone conclusion, here."

"There's plenty of risk. For me, for _all_ of us, if it goes bad. I can't be your experiment, Jack. I've been in love with you for years; your alleged feelings concerning me are pretty recent--"

"Not alleged," Jack insists.

"I've been bi all my life," Daniel says sharply. "To my knowledge you have _zero_ history of same-sex relationships. You can't ask me to risk our friendship, our co-parenting arrangement _and my home_ for godsake, for a one-night-stand that carries a pretty high risk of failure."

Jack sets down the rest of his beer and crosses the room to stand next to him, not touching, sliding his hands into his pockets to guarantee that he won't. 

"Okay, here it is. You had your confession, here's mine. I listen to you every night after the kid goes to sleep. You pick him up and you sit in that damned rocking chair, cuddling him and burping him. You tell him how much we both love him, and then you take him to his room and I never see you again."

"I'm sorry. I thought I was being quiet, I didn’t mean to disturb you. We could move the--"

"You're not disturbing me, Daniel. Don’t be dense. Lately it's all I can do, as you're walking out of my room, to keep from asking you to _stay."_

"Stay?"

"In my bed. _With. Me._ Instead of going to the guest room alone, I want you to stay with me. Together." He points a finger between them so Daniel will get the message. "You and me."

Daniel frowns, and Jack can feel another lecture coming on.

"You're proving my point, don't you see?" Daniel says with urgency as he begins to pace. The waving of hands signals the onset of said lecture. 

"It's completely natural to want to bind the co-parent to you using affection and even sex. Evolution. Survival of the fittest. Protection of the offspring and the parent who has the greater parental investment, by someone whose sole focus is sheltering and providing for the family unit. But it's really unnecessary in our case, because I'm already totally committed to both you and to our child." 

Daniel watches Jack's face as he explains all this, and the frown and downturned mouth, as well as what looks like moisture in his eyes, all signs that he's drowning in a pool of perceived rejection. He feels a split second of remorse for speaking so sternly to him, but he reminds himself that Jack's a forceful personality, and they need to get all of this out on the table before someone --probably him-- gets hurt.

But he's also seen another side of Jack in the last six months that's made him fall even harder for the man, and he just can't leave this... coldness between them.

He reaches out to rub Jack's arm and adds gently, "I think we have to at least consider the possibility that you've been... mind-whammied by this whole baby-thing."

 _"Daniel,"_ Jack warns.

With that, Daniel's resolve fails utterly and he gathers Jack into his arms. He drops his voice to a whisper, because he can feel his own eyes stinging and he wants to at least _sound_ like he's got it all under control. "Let's-- can we agree to put this discussion on hold? Can I get a rain check on... all this? Just until you've weaned Liam and Janet says you're bloodstream's free of all the extra hormones. Once you're yourself again, we can readdress the issue if you're still interested. And if you're not, well, then, no harm, no foul. _Please,_ Jack."

Jack's not actually listening at this point, because when Daniel reached for him, he let himself melt into the embrace, and suddenly he feels warm and safe and loved for the first time in a really long time. As he winds his arms around Daniel's trim waist, the thought flits across his brain that he'd like to stay just like this forever, and to hell with everything and everyone else.

...?

Yeah, that's not right.

He's not crazy about the implication that he's the weaker parent in need of anyone's protection, but based on all the available data --dear god, when the hell did Daniel grow these shoulders all of a sudden?-- Jack is forced to concede in the privacy of his own brain that his current physical condition could possibly have an undesirable effect on his ability to be a bad-ass colonel out in the field.

Or even here, at his own house, apparently.

But this feels pretty damned fantastic right here, all warm and snug and intimate, and they're not _in_ the field, so then summing it all up, the question of why the hell can't they take this to the next level pretty much boils down to, _because Daniel said so._

The fact that Jack's being told he has to wait, instead of immediately getting his way, is making him want to cry. This further alerts him to the possibility that yeah, maybe Daniel has a point about the mind-whammie thingy. He's pretty sure he won't change his mind, but he understands why Daniel's reluctant to take the chance that he might.

And he needs to head off these damned tears any way he can.

He nods slowly and reluctantly pushes himself out of Daniel's arms. "Yeah, okay," he mutters, looking anywhere but right at Daniel. "Rain check."

*****

The following week is as normal as any that SGC personnel ever have, and yet, there's an undercurrent of hidden meaning to every exchange of words, along with significant eye contact and what Daniel's sure is accidently-on-purpose touching as they pass in the kitchen. The buzz between them smolders and sparkles like a live thing, until Daniel's forced to end each day with an ice cold shower just to maintain his sanity. He hasn’t been able to jerk off to anything but thoughts of Jack in more years than he'd like to admit, and now, with this... acknowledgement between them... doing that seems pretty wrong.

As usual, Daniel goes to the mountain on the Friday of the next week for SG-9's briefing, and afterward stops in to touch base with Teal'c. His offer of the opportunity to meditate seems like a prudent one, given the escalating tension at home. With the hope that it might save him a cold shower or two, Daniel settles in among the candles, seeking to achieve some measure of peace with regard to the current situation with his housemate.

What happens instead, is so unsettling and out of the blue, that he comes out of the restful state and up onto his knees retching. He doesn’t know how Teal'c knew to offer him the trashcan, but he's not going to question providence.

"What did you see, Daniel Jackson?"

He's panting as though he's been running for his life. "Oh, god, Rya'c..."

****

"Hell-o."

_"Hey, Jack. It's me. Listen, something's come up and--"_

"Seriously?" Jack takes a deep breath and elects not to mention that he's tried his hand at making those cookies Daniel likes, and was hoping to surprise him with them after the kid went to bed, because Oprah insists that the way to a man's--

Yeah, never mind.

He lets out the breath slowly, and fakes a smile that he hopes will travel along the phone wires and end up sounding a lot friendlier than the way it actually feels right now. "What's up?"

" _Yeahhh…"_

Daniel only drawls when he's stalling, which can't be good, because they got the secure line for a reason, god damn it, and out with it already!

_"Some of Murray's family is having a hard time right now, and the gang thought it might be a good idea if we ran out there real quick to have a little look-see. No biggie. I'll probably be home before lunch tomorrow."_

Jack gets the code easily. Teal'c. Rya'c and/or Bra'tac in trouble. And Daniel going off-world, something he vowed never to do again, makes it a pretty big trouble.

"I can be there in--"

_"No, huh-uh. You stay there with Liam. Reynolds can handle it. I'm only going because I can provide details of their defenses and the lay of the land. From, y'know. Before. That's all. Promise."_

"Daniel," Jack growls.

_"Wade's people are going too."_

Daniel's assurances that SG3 is coming with, only serve to confirm Jack's previously assumed unease and send all his hackles straight up.

_"It'll be fine, Jack. It's practically a--"_

"Don't say it!"

_"Superstitious, much?"_

"Where you're concerned? You bet your ass. Stop chuckling and put Reynolds on."

_"Why? So you can threaten him? Not a chance. Besides, we move out in five. I just wanted to say I... I don't want you to worry. GottaGoBye."_

"Daniel!" Jack snaps into the dead handset.

He's poised like a contracted spring, ready to launch through the damned phone, and it takes a concerted effort to release the anxiety which the adrenaline dump just amped up his system with. But he knows if Jaws gets near him while he's like this, he'll be inconsolable from the radiating fear response for the rest of the night, and Jack _so_ does not need that distraction right now.

He hangs up the phone and steps out onto the back deck, closing the door quietly behind him. He needs to get a grip and fast.

He's really angry. He'd like to yell. He'd like to shoot something. He'd like to yell while shooting something, because Daniel's out there, and he's stuck here at home with no way to watch his six, goddammittohell, and if Daniel--

He shuts that train of thought down in a hurry, because _hell yes,_ he's superstitious.

*****

The mission was a success.

Rya'c's all right. Bratac'll be fine, once the Tretonan starts coursing through his veins again. Teal'c is quite the proud father, and an entire death camp full of Jaffa have been liberated with minimal damage to personnel.

It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it could've been.

And he has no plans whatsoever to tell Jack he was up on the Ha'tak with Sam, placing the bomb which served as the distraction they needed to overcome being severely outnumbered by the bad guys. Strictly Need To Know, and Jack _doesn’t._

"Thanks, airman," Daniel says, closing the car door with his left hand as his entire right forearm is bound up against his chest. He lets himself into the house quietly and locks the door behind him. Hearing the telltale squeak of the rocking chair that places Jack in the bedroom with Liam, he tiptoes into the dimly-lit living room and settles wearily on the couch, letting his head fall backward as he closes his eyes.

He's sure Jack won't be happy, and better to have the 'discussion' as far away from the baby's room as possible.

"Well, ya missed bath time. Shoulda seen him with the--" Jack stops cold at the steps into the living room when his eyes land on Daniel's sling.

"It's not as bad as it looks. Come sit down and I'll tell you what happened."

Jack grits his teeth in order to stop the stream of invective that wants to escape. He knew it. He fucking knew it. "Oh, this should be good," he says as neutrally as he can. He takes a seat on the coffee table right next to Daniel's knees, so he can watch the explanation close up. He knows from experience the man can't lie for shit if you know what to watch for. "Lay it on me."

Head still resting against the back of the couch, Daniel opens his eyes and appraises the man across from him, whose casual slump does nothing to convince Daniel he's not on his way straight into the doghouse. Jack's fairly pinging with anxiety, which was the only reason Janet agreed to release him tonight. Daniel convinced her that if Jack could see in person that the damage wasn’t too severe, at least he wouldn’t be taking up space in her infirmary trying to make the same determination for himself, with Liam in tow.

He takes a deep breath and begins his story. "First: SGs One and Three are alive and intact. Two personnel are being kept overnight for observation, both from SG-3. Second: I'm fine, it's just a minor dislocation which Janet popped back into place easily with o damage to the underlying ligaments. And third: all this needs is ice and compression and elevation for a few days, and I'll be good as new. It stopped hurting the minute the joint was back where it was supposed to be."

Jack appraises him through narrowed eyes, searching for the tells which will alert him that important details may have been left out. The story sounds too rehearsed to be completely accurate.

He holds out an open hand, palm up. "Meds. Hand em over."

"Just an anti-inflammatory," Daniel says, scooching down a little so he can get his good hand into his pants pocket to retrieve the bottle. Tossing it over to Jack, he adds, "Which I don't take again for another six hours."

Jack examines the label to confirm his story and takes note of the time. He grunts. It's all too... clean. "What aren’t you telling me?"

"You sure it wouldn’t be more fun to beat it outta me?"

 _"Daniel,"_ he says, voice clipped with warning.

Daniel rolls his eyes, then gives in. "Okay, if you must know, I tripped on the dais on the way home. Came through completely unbalanced and landed wrong on the gateroom ramp." It's the truth, and he hopes he delivered with just enough reluctance that Jack won't be inclined to question it or push for more. "Janet made me ride home with an airman since my car's a manual. The bandages are to give it support and the sling is just to remind me to keep it elevated as much as possible."

A deep yawn escapes just then, which Daniel doesn’t even try to hide.

"Post-adrenaline crash," Jack pronounces. "Let's get you into bed."

"Can't I just--"

"No, you can't sleep on the couch." He stands up, then extends a hand for Daniel to clasp.

"You're so mean," Daniel grumbles as he reaches out to take it. He achieves verticality, then sways a little with a wave of lightheadedness, causing Jack to steady him by pulling him snugly into his arms.

The effect is electric. Daniel tenses, but doesn’t make any attempt to escape from the clinch. It'd been pretty chilling when that squad of Jaffa had come between them and the rings that were their only way off the doomed ship, and there'd been a long, horrible moment, where he'd been sure his number was up. Here, in Jack's arms, he can finally allow himself to feel just how close it'd been, and relief flushes through his entire body, as he sags a little into the comfort Jack's offering. 

"I'm fine," he insists against Jack's shoulder.

Jack nods, hearing what Daniel does not say, because in his experience, no Op is ever as breezy as he's making it sound. His path forward is instantly clear to him, and he won't be persuaded by Daniel's damnable logic this time. "Un-huh. For values of 'fine' which include 'out on your feet'."

"Jack--"

"Shut _up,"_ Jack snaps through clenched teeth as he tightens his arms instinctively. "You could've _died_ again."

Daniel lets himself relax fully then, because he knows that Jack probably has an idea that he's left bits out, but he won't make him talk about it until tomorrow. He allows Jack to take a little more of his weight while he returns the embrace with his free arm. "Not even close," he whispers. "Too much reason to live."

Jack tucks his face into Daniel's neck, inhaling deeply as he gathers his wits. "Full debrief in the morning," he states firmly. "Bed now."

Daniel grunts his agreement, and they separate enough to get back up the two steps in the foyer and then down the hall, Jack's hand cupping Daniel's elbow in case he gets lightheaded again.

"I may not be much help with Liam for the next coupla days." He slows to turn into his own room, but Jack hustles him past the door. 

"You need help in the bathroom?"

"No, I went before I left the infirmary," Daniel explains, stuttering to a stop outside the baby's room. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he whispers. "What're ya doin'?"

With a finger across his lips, Jack signals 'shhh', and then gestures toward his own room. When they get out of earshot he says softly, "Look, your bed's really narrow and right up against the wall. You don’t wanna bump your bad hand in the night. This way, you'll have plenty of room to spread out. Besides, the monitors’ in the other room, so it all works out. You’re off duty for Jaws till further notice."

Daniel eyes him dubiously, then the nearby expanse of bed calls to his exhausted body and he relents. "Yeah, okay. Thanks."

Jack helps him out of the sling and his shirt as Daniel toes out of his sneakers. With a hip wiggle, the jeans fall to the floor and he steps out of them, climbing into the bed in just his boxer briefs, stretching into a careful belly sprawl which ends with a deep sigh. Jack pulls the cover over him and turns out light. 

"You need anything?"

"Nah, I'm good," he replies, his voice already thick with approaching sleep, as he punches the pillow up under his cheek with his undamaged hand.

Making the rounds to close up the house, Jack checks to see that Jaws is covered. Then he snags the monitor off the bedside table in Daniel's room and sets it quietly on his own nightstand. On the other side of the bed, Daniel's snoring softly and hasn’t moved a muscle.

Jack strips down quietly to his requisite pair of black t-shirts and his favorite plaid boxers --it seems somehow appropriate, since he'd been wearing them the night he found himself pregnant-- and slides into the bed beside him. 

Daniel wakes up when the bed dips. "J'ck?"

"Daniel."

He sighs loudly. "What're ya doin'?"

"I know we agreed..."

"No, Jack, don’t do this," he says wearily, his forehead thumping heavily onto the mattress.

"Don't 'Jack' me," he says tightly. "It happened to be offworld, and it happened not to be too drastic of an injury, but one of us could get hit by a bus tomorrow on the way to the store. I don’t--" he swallows hard when his voice breaks, but forces himself to push the rest out. "I don't want to wait anymore."

Moving gingerly to turn onto his back, Daniel takes a deep breath. Jack recognizes the wind up for a scathing sermon, and heads it off. Rolling up onto his elbow right next to him, he says earnestly, "Let me see if I can explain it to you," then leans down and plants one on Daniel's astonished mouth.

Daniel objects immediately, and is about to strong-arm Jack away by lodging his one good hand against the middle of Jack's chest, when Jack opens his mouth and utterly submits. Daniel's so astonished he opens his own, and apparently Jack takes that as assent, because now there's a tongue in Daniel's mouth, teasing and then retreating.

There’s plenty of strength in Daniel’s left arm, and with the help of his two good legs, he has the physical ability to put an end to this attack. But what he has shockingly little of, it seems, is the will to refuse what Jack's so assertively offering. 

Moments, or maybe hours later, Jack pulls away for air and leans his forehead against Daniel's. "Please don’t say no. Don't talk at all, just--"

Panting more from adrenaline than lack of oxygen, Daniel complains through clenched teeth, "You realize you got me into your bed by nefarious means and that you're _totally_ taking advantage of me in my injured state, right? Every _one_ of my points the other day was valid. We agreed to _wait,_ god damn it--"

"We did," Jack concedes, settling his free hand against the nearest expanse of skin. He can feel Daniel's heart thumping hard underneath his fingers, and he hopes it's fueled more by arousal than anger, but right at the moment, he fears that's just wishful thinking. 

"We did agree. Hear me out." He's desperate now, because they've gone too far to turn around. This last week's been more affecting than he'd even realized, every cell in his body pinging off Daniel's whenever they were in the same room, and here he's gone and forced their hand, tipped them right over the edge with no net in sight.

Daniel's pissed off now, and with good reason. Somehow, Jack has to make him understand that his rationale is more reasonable than all the logic Daniel spewed the week before.

"I want to spend tonight with you. _God..._ I want--" he tries to order his thoughts. Don't start with now, where was the beginning? From uneasy teammates to friends to... this. Such a slow and insidious meandering, the actual germ of the change can't easily be pinpointed beyond--

"Considering that I've had these feelings for you since before Kewlona, and now we've built a family together, I'm pretty sure my opinion on the matter isn’t going to change in the morning. You want to wait until I stop nursing Jaws, fine. If that's a condition of this, I'll give him his first formula tomorrow. It'll give me an excuse not to use that medieval breast pump anymore.

"So here's the plan. For tonight, we'll say that your medicine and my hormones made us do it. That'll give us plausible deniability tomorrow. In the morning, wean the kid. And then I'll wait as long as you say, until Fraiser says my body's clear of the hormones, before I approach you again. C'mon, plausible deniability, ya can't ask for more than that."

"How much plausible deniability can there be with an anti-inflammatory?" Daniel sputters indignantly. "God _damn_ it, Jack, no means, _no,_ you pompous ass!"

"It does," Jack agrees wholeheartedly, "and I would normally agree with you on that point, except that I don’t think you really want to tell me no. I think you love the hell outta me. And not to be too full of myself, but I think you pretty much always have. I think waiting any longer is stupid. I think waiting is a selfish move on your part; you're hedging your bets against what you perceive is going to be eventual heartbreak, and I can already tell you that last year, before I had to sit at your bedside and _watch you die,_ I had already come to this conclusion, so the fact that there are hormones fueling it now, is really pretty goddamned immaterial. Because this condition --my loving you, my being _in love with you,_ my stubborn friend, _pre-dates_ the fucking hormones. So. _There."_

The silence, now that Jack's finished with his tirade, is almost deafening. Daniel's breathing finally seems under control, but his heart is still pounding. Also, Jack can feel that he's hard; that _has_ to be a good sign?

"You didn’t say that," Daniel accuses finally. "Why the hell didn’t you say that last _week?"_

"Because last _week,_ the fucking _lights_ were on, and I couldn’t really think, and because frankly, this kind of crap is easier to do in the dark. Now, are you gonna stop arguing with me and kiss m--"

Before the demand is out of Jack's mouth, Daniel reaches up with his good arm, snags the back of Jack's neck and brings his lips down where he can reach them. The kiss is angry at first, because god _damn,_ this man is infuriating, but it gentles almost immediately, because dear god, his tongue's in Jack's mouth, and Jack's letting him, and he's wanted this forever. His heart's pounding all over again with the man's weight pressed up hard against him all along his left side, and he's nearly dizzy with the visceral need to roll them over, to feel Jack writhing beneath him.

He pulls away finally. "Not sure how frisky I'm gonna be able to be with this stupid wrist," he murmurs breathlessly against Jack's lips. "You sure you wouldn’t rather wait until--"

"Oh my god, _finally,"_ Jack mutters. "I'm positive. No more waiting. Let's do this."

Next thing Daniel knows, Jack's hand is cupping him over the briefs as though he'd been touching other men's dicks all his life. "Do I have your permission to take these off?"

"Oh, _now_ you're asking permission," Daniel snipes, "Jesus _Christ."_ He struggles one-handed to get them off himself, indicating his enthusiastic consent.

Jack assists, pulling them off his left leg when he raises it, leaving the lump of warm cotton dangling somewhere around Daniel's right knee. Lips hovering over Daniel's panting breath, not quite touching, his hand skims up a thigh and moves with unerring accuracy to cup Daniel bare, causing his abs to contract as his shoulders come up off the bed, right into the perfect lip lock. 

Suddenly, Jack wants nothing more than for there to be better light, because he really, _really_ wants to see. Locker room etiquette aside, the fleeting glimpses he's had over the years have not adequately prepared him in any way for the object that now overfills his hand. He can feel Daniel's heartbeat speed up underneath his own chest, even as his hips surge up, pushing his dick unsubtly into Jack's hand.

"Guuh-huh," Daniel gasps as his torso sinks heavily back onto the mattress.

"I knew you'd be like this," Jack murmurs into Daniel's mouth as he takes it gently, learning each crevice by heart. He imagines a lifetime of exploring each other at their leisure as Daniel moves insistently against him.

He slides down and bends his neck, intent on kissing the head of the magnificent cock he cannot see, but his proximity to Daniel's groin finds him engulfed in musk which begins to sideline all rational thought. "Oh, god," he mutters, nosing into every crease and fold, mouthing the soft layer of hair which covers his package as he inhales lungfuls of Daniel's scent, until he's lightheaded from it and throbbing with desire.

Dimly, he registers Daniel's gentle hand on the back of his head, and it's at that point that all conscious considerations leave him.

He nuzzles, rubbing his face all over the entire area. This stirs up even more of the heady scent. The sounds Daniel's making as a result, cause his own dick to finish firming in his boxers, and suddenly, all he can think about is getting them off, getting as naked as he can so that he can cover himself in the tantalizing aroma of Daniel's skin.

He pushes away long enough to shove his own boxers down, freeing his dick to slide across the deliciously soft sheet, but not taking precious seconds to bother ridding himself of the garment completely.

Jack's hand finds the thick column of Daniel's cock and he holds it, licking it up to the tip, surprised to find fluid there. He feels stupid for being surprised, but if he'd had any light for cryin' out loud, he coulda seen it. But then he might've freaked, because --hey there, never been gay before-- and now, having done it, it's really not so bad, so he goes in for a second swipe to no avail. He takes just the crown into his mouth and exerts some suction, hoping to encourage some more flavor to leak out, causing Daniel to arch and gasp out his name. This is unbelievably cool, and Jack's hips thrust in response.

"Jack! Get back, god, I'm so close!" He tries to push him away with his undamaged arm, and Jack pulls off, but stays nearby.

"So good," he mutters, mouthing the parts of Daniel's dick that his palm and fingers don’t cover, "you smell so fucking good." He wraps his hand around the base and slides it up experimentally. He can feel the sheaf of skin sliding up over the head, and Daniel groans, deep in his chest, a sound Jack's never heard Daniel make before. A sound Jack _caused._

"Tighter," Daniel begs.

Jack increases his grip, jiggling the loose skin across the glans a few times. Daniel shouts Jack's name and comes, his upper body curling up reflexively. Jack stays where he is, inhaling the heady fragrance of the fresh come that's still pulsing, running down his fingers. He snuffles, nosing into the crease of Daniel's thigh, rubbing his bewhiskered face all over his hip. In so doing, he gets some of it on his lip, and he instinctively licks it off. Not bad. He thinks about licking up more of it, but when the tip of his tongue touches it, he finds that it's already gone cold, and although he's sure he could get to like the taste, the texture and temperature will take some getting used to.

Still cupping the spent package, Jack shifts upward, dragging his sensitized cock all along Daniel's side. "You smell good," he says, finding his mouth in the dark.

Daniel's still trying to catch his breath. He can taste himself in Jack's mouth, which is both shocking and shamefully arousing. "God, Jack, did you swallow?"

Jack can feel the sticky cock lurch in his hand, and he smiles. "Just a taste. Next time, I'll be ready and get it all, straight from the tap." The cock lurches again and Daniel growls. Jack wonders if it's in response to the idea of his swallowing, or just the promise of a 'next time'.

He needs to come, right now, with Daniel, next to Daniel, _on Daniel,_ it doesn’t much matter, but surprisingly, his heart needs the words more desperately than his body needs the orgasm. "Tell me there's gonna be a next time," he says with a roll of his hips. "Tell me you're not gonna be an idiot about this. About us."

Daniel's hands are on him, kneading his back, reaching for his ass, and Jack shifts up to assist the other man's inelegant grab for his butt. The fingers latch onto his flesh and squeeze possessively, sending renewed jolts of desire straight to his dick, and he groans and arches and hopes he doesn’t come this soon, a testament to just how long it's been since he's had any kind of interactive sex.

"Jack, I couldn’t bear it if this was something you regretted in the morning. Can't you understand that?"

"I'm not going to regret it," he assures Daniel with the tiny part of his brain which still works. "I told you, tonight's explainable by the drugs and the hormones. We'll take tomorrow as it comes. Maybe you'll believe me in the daylight." His hips roll again, hopefully. "Can I just...?"

"No," Daniel says with resignation. "If this is all I ever get, I want it all. Scoot up here some more." He tugs with his good hand and Jack knee-walks out of his boxers, reaching back to wipe his sticky hand on them, dragging his dick all the way up Daniel's hip and then further, until he's kneeling at his shoulder and Daniel's face is underneath his package. Warms lips nibbling everywhere, and then Daniel's trying to swallow his testicles, tongue undulating along the bottom of his sac. Jack's butt cheeks spasm with the effort of holding still, somehow enduring the sweet torture without thrusting.

He _really_ wants to see himself in Daniel's mouth. He groans with regret at yet another missed opportunity, as Daniel's good hand encircles his cock and begins to milk him.

He knows with sudden clarity that he's ruined for anyone else now, and his only chance at happiness lies in his ability to make Daniel understand that it's safe to trust him with his heart.

He reaches both hands down and cradles Daniel's skull as it moves between his legs. "Love you. So much," is all he manages, as his climax takes him.

*****

Daniel snags a handful of tissues as the box skitters off the nightstand and onto the floor, and mops up the worst of the cooling puddle on his belly. He'd gotten Jack's cock into his mouth as the pulses started, and was able to lick up everything Jack had to give. Warm and personal, and the culmination of every dream he's had in the last eight years.

He's afraid it will turn out to be a parting gift in the cold light of morning.

"Can I sleep in here with you?" Jack asks quietly. He'd dropped back onto his haunches after his climax and now kneels here, a stranger in his own bed, awkwardness settling into the room like a pall.

Daniel swallows reflexively at the plaintive tone of the request, and since he can feel the backs of his eyes beginning to prickle, he knows better than to try and speak. He raises his left arm in welcome and Jack slides in, slotting perfectly against him as though they were a matched set of bookends. His head rests on Daniel's shoulder, and his bent leg allows his soft package safe berth against Daniel's thigh. Jack's arm comes to rest across his middle as Daniel settles his left arm around Jack's shoulders, holding him close.

Once Daniel feels Jack's body relax into sleep, he allows quiet tears to come.

****

Jack pries one eye open and judges from the quality of light around the edges of the window shades, that it's just barely morning. A roll to his right finds the rest of the bed empty, and his heart sinks. "Crap." 

Throwing off the covers, he pads into the bathroom to pee. He can hear Daniel in the baby's room, talking to Jaws as he changes him. _Moment of truth,_ he thinks.

He scratches at a patch of dried come in his pubic hair, then washes up, splashing water on his face. With uncharacteristic optimism he quickly brushes his teeth, then heads back to the bed, climbing over to his side and cramming a pillow behind his shoulders. He leans back against the headboard, dragging the sheet up over his naked groin then waits. 

He wishes fervently that he was more of a talking kind of guy, and hopes his choice of wording doesn’t do more harm than good. He knows he's only got one shot at this.

Daniel appears in the doorway. "Oh, you're up. Do you want to nurse him in here, or out in the living room?"

"Here's good." He sees Daniel holding Jaws awkwardly, and feels a stab of guilt. 'You're supposed to be off duty for a coupla days. You should've poked me when he started fussing."

"He didn’t fuss at all. I heard him babbling to himself when I got up to take a leak. He was unusually cooperative with the diapering." He whispers quietly to Liam as he crosses the room, then kisses his cheek and holds him out for Jack to take.

Jack reaches out to take the squirming bundle with one arm and grabs a fistful of Daniel's robe with his free hand. "D'ya wanna stay?" He shoots him what he intends to be meaningful eye contact, hoping there's enough light from the bathroom for Daniel to see him, and that he's in the mood to translate the offer.

"Jack--"

"Stay," Jack repeats softly. "In here, with us. Stay while I feed him." He's more than a little smug that he was able to even ask the question, and puts, _practice words for Daniel_ , on the very top of his list of things to do. 

"Okay," Daniel agrees quietly, turning toward the rocking chair.

But Jack's still holding onto the tie of his robe for dear life. "Not in the chair. Climb into the bed with us."

There's more searching gazes between them, this time initiated by Daniel, and Jack's pretty sure he's looking for something. A sign, maybe. Jack tries hard to project all of what's in his heart right now, out through his own eyes and gives Jaws a couple of promising pats to forestall a complaint from that quarter which might distract the man in front of him who holds the future of their family in his bandaged hand.

He sees Daniel glance toward the kid and then back to him, probably thinking about weaker parents using sex to bind the protector to the unit, or some such crap. Jack doesn’t want to analyze it. He just knows he wants Daniel next to him. Always.

Eventually, Daniel nods and shuffles around the foot of the bed to get in on the other side. He's still wearing the robe.

Jack's a little disappointed, but congratulates himself on a partial win. Then he suppresses his supreme embarrassment about his own misshapen body, the borrowed form he's sure Thor thought the Tau'ri would find amusing, and lays Jaws next to him as he strips off both snug-fitting t-shirts at once. 

He's managed to keep covered to all but Janet's eyes for the last seven months, and here he is, baring his little breasts in front of someone he's trying to seduce. Thank god it's still pretty dark in the room, because he fears his masculinity's getting ready to take a pretty irretrievable hit.

He slides down into nursing position on his right side facing Daniel, with Jaws on the bed between them. The kid rolls toward him easily, aided by the gravity well Jack's body creates, and begins to coo and bat his hands at the chest before him with uncoordinated urgency, annoyed that breakfast is being held up. 

Jack feels Daniel's eyes on him as he lays on his side, head on his bunched up pillow. Jaws is obscuring the breast on the bed as Jack scoops him closer with his right arm, but the one up top is lying in a curvaceously attractive way, which he hopes will catch Daniel's eye, instead of making him want to hurl. 

As Liam latches on, Jack lets his eyes fall closed. Like a sneeze, he's never been able to keep them open as the milk lets down. There's the initial rush, the whole-body flush, and then the wave of utter peacefulness that fills him. He notes that his dick lurches this time, just knowing that Daniel's watching something this intimate happen. He has no way to know if he'll be drawn to look because he's a boob man at heart, or if it's just in the, 'oh my god, train wreck', kind of way. He gropes for Daniel's undamaged hand on the bed and squeezes, hoping it's the former.

Daniel bites his lip on the gasp that wants to escape as he takes in the entire scene. A blissed-out expression on Jack's face, the unmistakable curve of a real breast, Liam's tiny face smushed up against Jack's body, feverishly working a nipple to get sustenance. His free arm is batting a tiny fist against Jack's furry chest as if to hurry it up. 

Daniel blinks and forces his gaze up to Jack's face.

Jack opens his eyes to see Daniel lying rigidly beside him.

"You can look," Jack says softly.

"Jack, we need to talk."

"Sure, we can talk too, it won't bother him. He's very focused. He wouldn’t notice if someone set off a tactical nuke in the living room as long as the milk kept flowing."

Daniel steadfastly keeps his eyes trained on Jack's as he tries to remember what he wanted to say. "You're asking me-- I'm basically inviting you to break my heart, here."

"Not. Going. To happen," he says firmly. "I'm in this for the long haul. I don’t have a single reservation about this. About us." In the dim light, he sees the fear in Daniel's eyes, and decides that any amount of his own discomfort is worth banishing the crushing doubt that seems to fill them.

"Here's the bottom line. I want us to be lovers," he says softly, stroking his thumb across Daniel's big knuckles. "A family for real, and not just names on a mailbox. So you tell me what has to happen before we officially can be. Is this his last feeding? Do I need to call Fraiser later this morning to get a brand recommendation for formula?" Based on Daniel's expression, he thinks he knows what the answer will be, but it's a box that needs to be checked on the way from here to there; probably be a whole mess of 'em. And Jack will manfully check each and every one of them if doing so gets him Daniel in his bed every single night.

Daniel can see how much Liam wants this, the closeness as well as the nourishment, and he knows that any formula, recommended or not, will be a distant second to what nature, in the form of the dearly departed Asgard, can provide. And switching to a manufactured formula now, might mean they'd be looking at allergies, digestive problems, middle of the night croup... "No, no formula."

Jack's careful to hide the exuberance behind what he hopes is a mature façade. "Okay by me," he says gently. "Will you move your stuff in here? I'm really tired of sleeping alone."

Daniel frowns. "Jack--"

And as quickly as the joy bubbled up, it's instantly gone in the shadow of concern he sees in Daniel's eyes. "It's my misshapen body, isn’t it?" he grimaces in embarrassment as he tries to disengage his hand from Daniel's so he can cover up. "That's why you want to wait until he's done." What the hell was he thinking? He's a freak.

Apparently, Daniel has other ideas though, and he laces their fingers together so that Jack's digits are effectively trapped. "It grosses you out, doesn’t it?" Jack demands, not able to meet Daniel's eyes. 

"It's not--" Daniel's face contorts in confusion. "Grossed out? Are you kidding me?" he asks incredulously. He lets his gaze wander blatantly from Jack's frowning expression down to the exposed chest, and allows himself the freedom to stare openly at the transformation before him.

Jack's collarbones, long a favorite spot of Daniel's to sneak peeks at, are unchanged, but the landscape of the rest of his torso is now foreign territory. The familiar patch of chest hair remains, now nestled between a pair of actual breasts. The nipple of the one he has unobstructed view of is shiny and wet, oozing milk, probably due to the stimulation on the other side. He swallows involuntarily and drags his gaze to their son, nursing contentedly at the other breast.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispers reverently.

Jack snorts, and mutters, "Yeah, right. I'm a freakin' hermaphrodite."

Gently, Daniel cups Jack's cheek with the side of his wrapped hand. "You're as handsome as you've always been, Jack. And when I see you feeding our son this way, I just..." His heart's so full that he's speechless, but his gaze continues to sweep across Jack's body, seeing the perfect curves of his small breasts with the smattering of hair between them, the enlarged nipples, the nearly flat belly, the hint of package underneath the sheet. He can't tear his eyes away, and feels guilty for becoming aroused by the sight.

A glimpse at Jack's expression, open and hopeful as he submits to the scrutiny, and Daniel wants desperately to believe that they can have this. 

Daniel's hand slips away from Jack's face as he looks around the slowly-brightening room, his eyes always returning to where Liam is attached to Jack. Shaking his head, he quietly repeats, "I don’t know how to make you understand. Having you and Liam as my family is a dream I never thought I'd have. I'm so invested in this, it will _kill me_ if you come out the other side of this hormone haze and realize with horror that you've surrendered your heterosexuality to me. That being with me this way has somehow... lessened you.

"And if that happens, we aren’t going to be able to live together anymore, it'll be too painful. To have tried and failed to be a couple, it'll be like the worst divorce on the planet. This puts our entire _family_ at risk, don’t you see? Liam's ability to have a relationship with both his parents goes flying right out the window once you come to your senses and realize I've made you gay!"

Jack frowns and nudges Jaws' tiny fist with their clasped hands. It opens reflexively and clutches onto the tip of Daniel's nearby pinky as though it were the last life raft on the Titanic. He deliberately keeps his voice low and calm so that the kid won't freak, but what he really wants to do is grab the man next to him, throw him down on the bed and kiss him until he either passes out from lack of oxygen or sees reason.

"I wish you'd stop saying that, like I don’t have a clue what it is I want. I know what's at stake here, and I'm absolutely committed to the concept of you and me as a couple. I was in love with you before you died the first time, fer cryin' out loud. And last night, when you came home injured--" He takes a deep breath and tells himself he can get through this, even with the damned words, and he can do it dry-eyed and with his dignity intact. He lets the breath out and continues carefully.

"You could've been dead _again_ ," he says, the bite of anger still in his quiet voice. "And don’t tell me there isn’t some big, honkin' piece of explanation you've neglected to mention, because I'm semi-retired, not stupid. And that would _seriously_ piss me off, Daniel, if you go off and die on me again--"

Before Jack's even completed the thought, Daniel's reached out gingerly, nudging Jack's head down until their foreheads touch. Liam nurses on between them, oblivious to the actions of his parents. "I'm _not_ going to die on you," he whispers fiercely.

"How can you promise that?" Jack demands softly. "With the jobs we have, how can you promise anything at all about tomorrow?"

And then it finally dawns on Daniel, how very similar their positions are. How willing he's been in the past to risk his own life, and how fearful and stupid he's being now, about risking just his heart with the man he trusts above all others.

He releases Jack's neck, his hand trailing down the side of the stubbly face. Idly, he traces Jack's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "I guess the same way that you're promising me you won't change your mind about us a few months down the line." Their eyes meet in the dim light and Daniel releases the tight rein he's had on his emotions, allowing himself fall the rest of the way. It's as terrifying and exhilarating as any amusement park ride. As rapidly as his heart's pounding, he thinks he might just pass out.

It almost feels too easy, but Jack's not one to look cross-eyed at free horses, so he shakes Daniel's hand loose and uses his now free fingers to pull him back in for a kiss. "I love you," he says firmly. "Now, shut up and let us happen." 

Given that Daniel's voluntarily opened his mouth to let him in, he thinks maybe they're there. Finally. Just in case, he adds with as much sincerity as he can muster, "I want us to be a real family, no holds barred. Tell me what I have to do to convince you of that."

Having pushed all the rest of his reservations aside, Daniel smiles easily, the whole of their lives --together-- stretching out in front of him. "You just did." 

*****

The kissing's magnificent. Clearly, Daniel's a master at this and Jack's just along for the _Ride. Of. His. Life._ He can't get enough, and when Daniel starts to pull back to catch a breath, Jack tries to follow to keep it going. Daniel nips his bottom lip before pushing away more firmly, and the brief sensation of teeth makes Jack hard between one heartbeat and the next.

Foreheads touching, Jack stutters breathlessly, "I want you," against Daniel's lips. "Right now. Take off all your clothes so I can lick you everywhere--"

"Hey now," Daniel chuckles softly. "There're minors present! Watch the dirty talk around Liam."

"He's asleep. Haven't you noticed? Nursing puts him into some kind of coma. He's totally out, I kid you not, he's just forgotten to let go."

Daniel glances down and sure enough, Liam's eyes are closed, his tiny jaws unmoving. "Still..."

"Here," Jack says, using his finger to release the suction so they can part amicably. "You work on standing up, I'll hand him off to ya. Go and slip him into his crib and then come on back here."

"Jack--"

"Come _-back-_ here," Jack singsongs as he hands him over.

Daniel just shakes his head, settling the child upright against his shoulder with his stiff right hand in order to rub the burps out gently with his left. When he comes back in, Jack's still lying on his side, head propped on his bent arm. As Daniel closes the bedroom door, Jack smiles slyly and pats the bed. 

"C'mon, get in here." 

"Jack," he groans, "I haven’t even had any coffee yet."

"I just wanna talk for a minute, okay, then we can get some coffee."

He props his hands on his hips. "Janet said you couldn’t have coffee."

"She didn’t say I couldn’t lick the taste from the inside of your mouth, now did she?"

Daniel growls, then drops the robe.

"So," Jack laughs as he watches him climb in. "Dirty talk does it for ya, huh?"

Daniel flips back the covers and slides in facing him, mirroring his pose, then flips them back to cover his bare ass. "Apparently," he says wryly.

"I'll hafta remember that. Come here."

"I'm here already!"

"No," Jack insists, cautiously lifting Daniel's bandaged hand and moving it out of the way before he scoots right up next to him. _"Here."_

Daniel can feel skin, a lot of it, and he winces out loud at the sensory deluge. He closes his eyes to try and get a handle on his runaway reactions before he embarrasses himself.

"Eeeeasy big fella."

"I thought you wanted to talk..."

"I figured I'd try the immersion method."

Daniel rolls his eyes and allows his forehead to fall forward to softly clunk against Jack's. "I'm doomed."

"You're not. You may hafta work to keep up though," he adds with all due seriousness. "Because I've been imagining this long enough and I'm ready to put theory into practice. Now. Tell me you know how this goes. Because if we're both virgins here, someone's gonna have to do a helluva lot of research toot sweet."

Daniel raises his head, finding Jack's eyes and holding them. He'd never allowed himself to dwell on it, but _of course_ Jack's a virgin. "I've done the research," he says quietly.

Jack scowls. "How recently?"

One look at Jack's expression and Daniel knows that any answer he gives will be ill-received. "You've read my file," he hedges.

"That was almost ten years ago, and all that crap was just background noise to me then. You, of all people know that. I didn’t pay any attention to any of it because I was pretty sure I wasn’t gonna be around to care one way or another."

"Then… what? You looking for _references?"_

Jack snorts, and opts for honesty rather than a quip. "No, I'm trying to ascertain if you have any idea what the next step is because I sure as hell don’t, and I'm really kinda torn, if ya must know, between wanting you to sweep me off my feet with your vast experience with man-lovin', and being more than a little jealous of any and all of your previous male suitors."

"Ah," he says softly. "My last... _research_ was before I came into the program."

"Okay," Jack grumbles, not meeting his eyes.

Daniel's heart is pounding, his body thrumming with nervous tension. "At the time, I kinda had it bad for a certain air force officer with really silly hair," he explains.

Jack looks up and sees the seriousness in Daniel's expression. He cups his face, stroking the cheekbones with his thumb. "That early on?"

Daniel nods. "From the minute you strode in and took over the gate room."

Jack thinks about Sha're and choices and suddenly he's re-thinking the entire leaving scene in the Abydos gateroom, worrying that there was something he missed. A different question he should've asked.

_You sure you wanna do this?_

_I'm sure._

Suddenly, Jack needs to know why Daniel stayed on a desert planet gazillions of miles from home. Was it a deliberate preference, or a consolation payment? He doesn’t ask. He will, someday, when they're both old and gray and Daniel will be likely to forgive him the conceit.

Bulky hand grasping Jack's hip, Daniel leans in and kisses him, long and slow and lingering. "I've loved you for a long damned time."

Jack tries for a smile. It's lopsided, regret for so much lost time weighing it down. "Sorry I was so blind for so long," he whispers, not trusting his voice to be able to form the words he needs to say, knowing that Daniel's astute enough to hear the missing bits anyway.

"'sokay. We're here now."

"Are we?" he asks, not really believing he's been able to convince Daniel of his sincerity and not daring to hope that he's worthy of this second chance. "Are we here?"

"Jack, I'm naked in your bed."

Jack glances downward and confirms the beautiful evidence, a mere shadow in the rumpled covers, but bare nevertheless. "Yes, yes you are." He shrugs as nonchalantly as he can, because although he's certain he wants this, he's nervous as crap. "What now?"

"Well," Daniel says with an unsubtle sniff, "I'm strongly recommending a shower."

"Reasonable," Jack agrees. Showers are a normal part of everyday life and he'd really like a hefty dose of normal right about now. 

He watches Daniel roll off the bed and pad into the bathroom which adjoins the master bedroom. He follows, staring admiringly at the lithe grace of the naked form in front of him as Daniel starts the water and adjusts the spray before beginning to unwind the bandage around his wrist.

"I notice you said 'a' shower," Jack mentions offhandedly as he follows him into the bathroom. "That would seem to be singular, as in one shower-type event, and I can't help but notice that there're two people here, which would seem to indicate a failure in the subject-number agreement--"

Finally satisfied with the temperature, Daniel pulls the curtain back with a sigh and a flourish. "You comin' in, or would you rather stand out here and diagram my sentences?"

Jack grins. "Thought you'd never ask."

Strictly speaking, they do not have sex in the shower. No climaxes are achieved by anyone.

There is, however, a great deal of physical contact, encompassing the gamut between affectionate to deeply sensual to distractingly arousing. Jack's not sure how he manages to remain standing, as all the blood in his entire body started to pool in his groin the minute Daniel put his hands on him. His dick feels huge and tight and swollen, and to his annoyance, Daniel's managed not to touch him there at all. Jack's afraid it may've become prehensile, if not sentient, since it feels as though the damn thing's reaching, Seymour-like, for the hands that will not notice it.

Jack's noticed Daniel's hands before. Slender fingers and wide palms. They're sensory receptors in the most literal sense, capable of deciphering all manner of alien text and statuary, and are the central component of all his famous 'we come in peace' speeches. 

These hands have delivered babies and they've taken life in defense of his team. These hands are dismantling him now, one gentle stroke at a time. Jack's sure that should Daniel ever decide to place those sexy digits anywhere in the vicinity of his dick, Jack will come immediately and explosively.

The kissing --delicate, sensuous, and arousing-- leaves Jack breathless, nearly gasping. Totally humiliated. He really didn’t plan on being the heroine with the heaving bosom in this relationship, but hey, he's equipped for it, and right now, he's busy being tactically worshipped and can't really be bothered to care about his macho image. He's leaving his dick in charge of that.

Soapy hands are everywhere, under his arms, between his cheeks, and although Daniel permits Jack's curious fingers free and unrestricted access to his body, he's quite firm that his main goal is to fully explore the recent changes in Jack's form.

Jack's nipples are hard from the touching. He knows he's leaking, but he's pretty sure the evidence is being washed away by the shower spray. Daniel slides one open palm up his side, turning at the wrist at the last moment to cup him gently, support, not coverage, and the thumb strokes across the distended nipple once, twice, and the appreciative groan that escapes Jack's lips is heavy with desire.

Daniel squeezes more shower gel into his hand and returns the bottle to its shelf, rubbing his hands together until they're full of rich foam. He smoothes it across the tops of Jack's shoulders, along his throat, and then down his chest, across the gentle rise of his breasts, cupping them, kneading them gently, stroking the nipples tenderly. Watching Jack's eyes close as he revels in his touch, moaning his name out loud. One hand sliding to Jack's hip, he brings them together gently as he moves in for another kiss, letting their soapy bodies barely kiss as well. 

Jack's arms come around him to crush them closer, devouring Daniel's mouth with impatience and need. Up to now, his breasts have been a tool for feeding Jaws, and not always a comfortable one at that. They've also been something awkward and emasculating which Jack goes to great lengths to hide in order to maintain his professional persona. But right at this moment, Jack's never been so glad for mammary glands in his life. They, like his cock, are super-sensitized and with seemingly every square inch of his skin having been turned into a sexual receiving station. He's afraid he's going to orgasm spontaneously, proclaiming to his new boyfriend that he's easy. A slut of the highest order.

Daniel allows the bruising kiss for the span of many stuttering heartbeats, and then pulls away with a grip of velvet steel around Jack's biceps which brooks no dispute. "Turn," he commands softly. 

Jack growls in frustration, but does as instructed and steadies himself against the slick tile with both of his hands braced, his feet shoulder width apart, as he tries to calm his breathing, waiting to see what Daniel will do next.

"There's such a thing as too much foreplay, y'know," Jack complains over his shoulder.

"I know," Daniel says, reaching for the gel again. "But we're not there yet."

He's never been so turned on in his life. Though he's wanted Jack for what seems like forever, and engaged in masturbatory fantasies which have featured his likeness in one position or another, he's never once believed it would ever come to pass that he'd actually _have_ him, much less _in this way._

He aims the nozzle toward the back of Jack's neck and watches the warm water flow down across his shoulders and back, streaming in sheets from his asscheeks and down into the cleft between them, leaving his skin shiny in the diffuse light visible through the shower curtain. He squeezes a large dollop of gel into the palm of his good hand and gently rubs it into a lather with the bruised one, spreading the resulting suds across the expanse of skin in front of him, starting with the top of Jack's spine. 

He smoothes and massages in an admittedly lopsided way, following the soapy contours of toned muscle, circling back to places that elicit the most vocal response. When Jack's back is thoroughly lathered, Daniel steps forward, fitting his own body against him with all that slippery soap in between them, and pulls him in close. He slides his hands around Jack's waist and rubs his belly, low, where the muscles have lost their tone. He feels a stab of regret that they hadn’t been intimate during the short time Jack was pregnant, where he could have felt his baby moving inside him as they coupled.

He shakes his head to dispel the inappropriate bout of possessiveness he's sure Jack wouldn’t appreciate.

"Mmmm," he breathes as his mouth finds the juncture between Jack's neck and shoulder just above the soap line. He bites down gently. Jack stiffens in his arms with a gasp. "Don't come," Daniel instructs calmly before repeating the move on the opposite shoulder.

Jack chokes out a strangled laugh. "Not sure I've got too much to say about that."

Daniel chuckles. His hands scratch into Jack's pubic hair even as his dick slides in between Jack's legs, the thick column of his cock rubbing his hole and nudging his scrotum. Jack can feel every expansion of Daniel's chest as he breathes behind him, and the sharp intake of breath when Jack brings his legs together around him, feels as though it were his own. And although he's never heard what Daniel sounds like when he's on the verge of climax, he imagines it sounds a lot like that gasp. 

Jack's sphincter is clenching in expectation because he can envision that soon, that cock will push its way inside him. Fill him up. Break him open. The thought of being joined with Daniel in that way is more deeply, basely erotic than anything he can think of, and the orgasm he'd been holding off is immediately at risk of happening.

Jack first impulse is to grab his dick to bring himself off. But more important than just a quick climax is his deep-seated need for Daniel to _make_ him come. To force him to give it up.

To submit.

"Do it," Jack rasps. "Fuck me."

Behind him, Daniel's hips snap to a stop and he growls. "No."

"I'm close," he gasps, trying to bend forward at the waist, pushing his willing ass backwards against Daniel's groin, more or less demanding to be taken. Making Daniel an offer he won't be able to refuse. "I need you to just--"

But even with his injured wrist, Daniel's angle of torque is better and he's able to prevent most of the bend before his hand slips far enough down between Jack's legs to grasp Jack's trembling sac. He exerts a slow, squeezing pressure as he tugs it firmly away from Jack's body, and Jack's orgasm stalls out before it can start its race to the peak. 

Jack grunts his annoyance at the sudden downshift, even as his foggy brain realizes that Daniel's hand is cupping his bare package, causing another abrupt turnaround. "Please. Oh god--"

"If we're going to do this," Daniel says with quiet authority, "Then we have to do it at my pace, and that _doesn’t_ include virgin penetration standing up in the shower. I need you with me in this. Are you willing to slow down a little?"

"Well, I don’t know," Jack snaps bitterly. "Is it gonna be sometime today?"

"My, you're impatient when you're horny," Daniel observes as he steps back and angles the shower head to rinse Jack off. "I never knew that about you. There, that's got it. Out you go."

With a narrow-eyed glare, Jack steps out of the shower, and as he starts to dry off he's trying to figure out if Daniel's attitude is acutely pissing him off or wildly turning him on. He decides to give it a little more time before he makes up his mind about this heretofore unseen side of his friend.

"I want to learn you," Daniel says from right up behind him. Jack's never heard his speech take on that timbre before. It's Daniel's bedroom voice. Jack stills an involuntary shiver with a lot of effort as he turns.

"I'm no more complicated than the next guy. Should take all of two minutes--"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." 

Jack's face is gently held, turned to the side as Daniel proceeds to kiss him absolutely speechless, and Jack realizes that he will do anything this man tells him to.

"This isn’t a race," Daniel says softly. He looks up at Jack earnestly. "I want to take my time and lay you out on that bed and love you until you come. Do you think you can let me do that?"

"You'd better stop talkin' then," Jack says, his voice rough with pent up arousal. "Because I'm pretty damned close right now." And then Daniel smiles. A beautiful, open, intimate expression which Jack has only ever seen once before, on a planet of heat and sand, far, far away. That look is for him now, and he's so grateful he thinks he might weep with joy. 

"Close is a nice place to be for a while," Daniel whispers. Hand extended, Daniel leads Jack into the bedroom and then turning, pulls him down with him onto the bed. "Let me touch you."

Jack's got a knee on the bed with Daniel underneath him. In a moment they'll be skin to skin, and he's braced for instantaneous orgasm the moment that happens. But in a sly move Jack has himself executed hundreds of times, Daniel hooks an ankle around his calf, and rolls them to the left, leaving Jack supine on the bed with Daniel next to him leaning up on his left elbow, an inch of airspace between them. "Hi."

Jack chuffs his annoyance and narrows his eyes. "Y'know, you look all innocent to the point of seeming clueless a lot of the time. But deep down?" he waves a finger at their mutually naked groins, "You're a fucking cock tease."

"I beg to differ. I haven’t touched your cock even once."

"Oh, believe me, my cock is fully aware that he's being shunned."

"Not shunned," Daniel corrects softly as he gingerly moves down the bed. "In fact, he's about to be worshipped."

And the sound of the word is still hanging in the air as Daniel's warm mouth settles all around Jack's straining member.

"Ah-fuck!"

"Mmmm..."

Jack's hips thrust, but Daniel's ready for it, and all Jack feels is the back of Daniel's throat. One sliding swallow, and it’s all over but the panting.

"What the _hell..."_ Jack gasps.

Daniel smacks his lips together. "Something wrong?"

Hands scrabbling at the sheets beneath him for purchase, Jack's eyes keep wanting to close. His throat's killing him and his body feels as though he's pulled an all-nighter in zero Gs. He's utterly wrecked. He clears his parched throat, testing to see if it works. He's almost surprised when it does. "I was kinda hoping for something a little more..."

"Leisurely? Dramatic? Simultaneous?"

"...I was going to say _interactive,_ you smug little shit."

"Oh. We're getting to that part next."

"Of course we are."

"You couldn’t really concentrate with that thing yellin' at ya," Daniel explains, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at Jack's offending penis. Gingerly, he traces the edge of one of Jack's puffy areolas with the tip of a finger, then with just his forefinger and thumb and gentle, even pressure, surrounds the nipple and strokes upward. "Now," he says softly, gaze riveted to Jack's chest, "we can take our time." 

Slowly, he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them. That's when Jack feels the trickle of milk dribbling down his side. "Aww, crap." He reaches for the sheet to cover himself, to blot up the embarrassment, but Daniel stills his hand.

"Don't."

"Usually the t-shirts keep everything mashed down, and this doesn't--" Jack grouses by way of apology as he tries to pull the covers free from underneath him. "Get off me so I can go--"

Daniel rolls his hips atop Jack, then captures his left wrist in his uninjured grip, tightening it over Jack's head to get his attention. Looking down into Jack's eyes, he says softly, "Will you stop?"

Jack could get free if he wanted to, but not without hurting the man, and he wonders what it will be like when Daniel has two good wrists with which to hold him down. That thought makes his recently sated dick twitch, and _that_ sends a sharp jolt of humiliation straight to his gut. He ceases his struggle, but Daniel doesn’t move or release his wrist, and Jack's hole trembles eagerly as he allows himself to go along with the full-body press that holds him down, because really, what choice does he have?

"The leaking doesn’t bother me," Daniel says quietly. "I'm not grossed out by it, nor by any of the other changes to your body. I'm bi, remember? So I can fully appreciate your current form as well as the standard model. But I get that you're uncomfortable with your body image right now, and although I'm finding all of this more arousing than you can possibly imagine, I will absolutely attempt to ignore the fact that your secondary sex characteristics are currently --if temporarily-- enhanced and driving me crazy, if that's truly... what you want."

Daniel releases Jack's wrist and shifts to the side some so that Jack can continue on his quest to cover up if he so chooses. They have options here, and if Jack wants to ignore his female parts and keep their relationship strictly below the belt until his body changes back, he'll respect that. His cock lies hard and wanting against Jack's thigh, and he makes no attempt to disguise his arousal.

"I just..."

Daniel waits, but it seems that Jack's stalled out. His head's turned away and his eyes are closed, and Daniel fears he's gone too far. He'd hoped that since Jack hadn’t stopped his attentions in the shower that he was okay with everything, but apparently that was just his own arousal talking. Now that he's climaxed, he's --unsurprisingly-- drawing a lot of unwanted feminine parallels with his current condition and that's made him feel awkward. More or less exactly what Daniel had been afraid of. 

"You just... what?" he asks softly. "Feel off balance?" he guesses. "Conflicted? Not sure what your part in this is supposed to be?"

Jack shrugs, but doesn’t open his eyes. He's confused and swamped by shame. Five minutes ago he was begging, _begging,_ for Daniel to fuck him and he knows deep in his heart that he wanted that -- the penetration, the joining, the submission, _all of it--_ more than anything. Last night, what they did, he was down with all of it. Totally fine. He was even looking forward to the daylight exploration of Daniel's body, and his first novice attempt at a blowjob. And then--

Turns out he seems to have less of a problem with the gay thing than he does with his temporary boobs. How does that even make sense? It's all he can do to keep the angry tears at bay, and he _hates_ it.

Daniel sighs. "I’d like nothing more than for you to be one hundred percent okay with your body right this minute, because I'm so wildly turned on I can hardly see. But I can only imagine what you're feeling right now, and this is part of what I was worried about. I don't ever want you to feel that I've taken advantage of you. When you let me touch you in the shower, I wanted to believe you were all right with it. That's why I brought you off just now. To see if it was just the arousal that made it okay for you to be with me.

"It isn’t wrong to have these second thoughts, Jack. You have a right to be confused by the dichotomy you're experiencing. There was really no way to accurately predict what the rush of female hormones would do, what effect they'd have on the uber-male psyche. I get that you're having conflicting emotions. It's completely reasonable, under the circumstances." 

He cups Jack's cheek briefly and adds softly, "And it’s the reason I wanted us to wait. I wasn’t wrong." He shifts his hips subtly so that he's not intruding on Jack's personal space with his erection anymore. He expects it'll go down soon on its own now that things have ground to a halt.

"It's okay" he whispers, trying hard to keep his disappointment in check. "No hard feelings." He starts to roll away and off the bed, but before he can, Jack's rolled too, planting a knee on either side of Daniel's hips and glaring down at him hard enough to beat the band.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jack demands. 

Daniel's voicing of the concerns which had surfaced in Jack's head as soon as he'd come, has somehow snapped him out of his untimely introspection and given them perspective.

His condition isn’t his fault. His body was transformed against his will, not capriciously or maliciously, but for a purpose. A noble purpose that he's frankly gotten pretty damned fond of in these last few months, slimy diapers notwithstanding. 

But he can see now, that all the changes in his body which have been knocking him off his game these last six and a half months, haven't altered what makes him fundamentally _Jack O'Neill._ The things that have informed his masculinity and his definition of himself, the experiences that have molded him into what he is and how he behaves, haven’t been affected by his body's transformation. _It hasn’t changed who he is._

And Daniel's made it clear he isn’t condemning him for trying to make the best of the situation he's been given. All Jack needs to do is give himself permission to relax and go with what his new body's telling him, and trust Daniel with the rest.

Daniel closes his eyes against the sight of Jack leaning over him, and concentrates on not thrusting up against Jack's weight. He can feel the soft skin of Jack's scrotum where it's draped over his aching dick and then friction and a shifting of his weight as Jack leans forward so that their noses are bumping and their chests are firmly pressed together. He can feel that Jack's is wet with milk and Daniel's penis gets impossibly harder.

He wants to look, he wants to touch, but all he can do is grip the sheets with both fists and give Jack the privacy of his closed eyes. "Let me leave, Jack. Please."

"Not a chance in hell," Jack states firmly. "First: hell yeah, I'm confused. I've got fifty year old instincts telling me to nail your ass to the bed at the same time as all this fancy new equipment Thor gave me is screaming for your undivided attention. And B: Not sure I know how to reconcile the two, but I do know this - I can't do it without you." Daniel opens his eyes, and Jack is floored by the unwavering love shining in them.

"I'm not going to leave you," Daniel whispers urgently. "I _will not leave you._ You don’t have to guarantee that with your body."

Daniel's words hit a nerve. Unsurprising, because the man's been doing just that for the entire time Jack's known him. He's pretty much just summarized everything Jack's been unable to put into words. _I think that's exactly what I need to do. It's what I want. I want_ permission _to feel that way. When these damned hormones dry up, I may not want it that way anymore, but for right now, that's exactly what I want._

What Jack says is, "I'm just now figuring out that ya can't dismiss something as profound as what’s happened to me by saying it doesn’t suit my worldview, because it _changes_ your worldview. For better or worse, prepared or not, this is who I am now, at least for the time being."

Daniel blinks a few times, shocked that Jack is able to be this succinct. "You need space," he postulates. "Time to adjust--"

"No, I kinda think I'd like to pick back up where we were a coupla minutes ago before my sudden attack of modesty and cold feet."

"But--"

Tired of talking, Jack leans down and takes Daniel's mouth with his own, forcefully at first, gentling as Daniel gets back on board, then ending the kiss but staying close, their cheeks scraping roughly as he buries his face in the protective darkness of Daniel's neck and speaks softly into his ear.

"I want things, Daniel, things I shouldn’t want. There's crap in my head that's better suited to a romance novel. I feel... _Shit._ It embarrasses me, okay? All of it." He lets out a disgusted snort. "Can't you just..."

Daniel enfolds Jack tightly with strong arms, the fingers of his good hand scratching gently through Jack's scalp, mentally logging each and every shivery response to his touch. He gets that Jack's confused and upset, but he's not sure where this leaves them. _Can't you just..._ could mean so many things. Like, _can't you just leave the girl bits alone..._

"So... what? You want me to pretend I don’t see your breasts? That I can't smell the milk that's oozing from them? That I don’t long to taste it?"

Jack groans and his cock, which shouldn't be ready for any further action tonight, is starting to fill again between them.

 _Huh,_ Daniel thinks. Okay then. 

Daniel has a better idea of where they stand now, but he hates the responsibility of what Jack wants to lay at his door. He shrugs out of Jack's embrace, forcing him up far enough so that they can see one another. He shakes his head slowly. "I hate putting words in your mouth, making assumptions. Taking away your agency--"

"Take it and run. I trust you." 

Those three words... delivered so calmly, fill him with equal measures of power and dread. _Can't you just read my mind..._ Jack is essentially handing over his consent. Daniel can easily see the attraction for him. No embarrassing words need to be spoken aloud, and there can be no feelings of guilt or shame if you're simply the recipient of someone else's attentions.

But how can Daniel have any guarantee that Jack won't be disgusted by the acts Daniel wants to engage in if he won't weigh in on any of it? How will he ever know for sure if anything they do will be thought of as consensual later, once Jack's back to his completely masculine self? What are the chances that an act of love today will cause resentment further down the line?

If he agrees, he's putting himself in a position where he could possibly be hurt or shunned for his desires, precisely what he'd been afraid of. If he refuses, it all stops here. And they've already gone too far down the road to lovers to go back to simply being friends.

Forward it is then. 

"I'll make you a deal," Daniel says seriously. "I'll promise you... that whatever ways the two of us find to love one another, I will absolutely still respect you tomorrow morning, and every morning after." Jack's stern expression gradually shifts into one of gratitude, and Daniel knows he's guessed correctly.

Jack offers him a lopsided smile. "Backatcha."

"Come here," Daniel says, levering Jack back down so that he can plunder his mouth. "Do you have something we can use for lube?" Now he's glad he took time to do the rough prep in the shower.

Heart pounding, Jack reaches over to the nightstand and paws through the drawer, then produces a mostly new tube of KY. Daniel eyes it critically before setting it on the bed next to him. "Let's be sure to add some AstroGlide to the shopping list. Shift up some," he says pulling his leg out from under Jack. "Now this side." And then his legs are open and Jack's between them, watching Daniel with lust-filled eyes.

With Jack perched up over top of him, both of Daniel's hands are free to play with Jack's dripping breasts. A few moments of trial and error and he's worked out how to express the milk in long, arcing squirts that sprinkle his chest with warm fluid. "This is so fucking _hot..."_

"Jesus," Jack mutters, watching Daniel play with his body. Under the circumstances, he doesn’t know whether to be horrified that Daniel's such a kinky bastard, or grateful. Beneath him, Daniel's busy cupping him, thumbing the nipples until there's a glossy sheen of milk all over both of them. Then he smushes the breasts together, and leans up to bury his face in the patch of hair between them, kissing, and nuzzling and groaning as he rubs them all over his face.

Jack rears back, arching, holding Daniel's head up to his chest with both hands as his lips begin rooting until he can finally latch onto a plump, wet nipple. "Ah, fuck…" Daniel's making sex noises all over him, so Jack's not surprised when his own dick continues to firm up, but he's never had a sexual response to nursing before and that's kinda freaking him right the hell out.

Suddenly, Daniel pulls back, panting. "I want to do this, but I don’t..." He looks up at Jack, eyes bright and almost hyper-alert. "If I take this, you'll make more for Liam, right?"

It takes Jack a couple of seconds to catch up with the meaning of the question. "Fraiser said it was supply and demand, so I guess so, yeah--" His reply is cut off the minute Daniel latches on for real, and Jack grinds his teeth to keep from groaning out loud like some kind of fucking porn star.

Daniel's figured out the correct stroke, because it's scraping, not actual sucking, and he feverishly works Jack's left nipple, his right thumb circling the other one into a painfully erect state. A finger, Jack doesn’t know which one, gently mimics the circling motion at his entrance.

"Mmmmm, so good, " Daniel murmurs as he feeds.

And that's a whole different kind of kinky, right there.

Jack feels loved and incredibly moved as Daniel continues to work his boobs. And as the familiar sensation starts, Jack smiles and closes his eyes, head falling back just a little. "Head's up," he warns softly.

Daniel groans deep in his chest, and nearly chokes when the let-down reflex hits, and he pulls back, coughing.

Jack's lip curls. "I did warn you."

"Timing," he nods, turning his head to clear his throat. "Ah-hah." He coughs again, then scrubs a hand across his face. "Oh, god. I was in some kind of crazy zone; close to losing it. Break was probably a good thing, or I might've--" Panting, he falls backward on the mattress, and closes his eyes. "Gimme a minute to get a grip, 'kay?"

"Might've?"

Daniel'd been so far gone Jack was lucky he didn’t get flipped over onto his belly. He doesn’t remember being this horny, _ever._ "Never mind."

Jack leans over his breathless partner, letting his wet breasts dangle above him with their slow drip, drip, drip, bending a little to brush them against Daniel's face, his stubbly cheek.

Daniel opens his eyes and reaches up with both hands to knead them, fluid welling up and falling to his chest. Soon, he's quite wet.

"Might've?" Jack insists again.

Daniel moans softly, attempting to capture a nipple as it passes by him, but Jack's faster, and keeps them tantalizingly just out of reach. "God, I want you," Daniel murmurs. "I wanna lay you out and open you up and fuck you deep. Slow. All night long... fall asleep still inside you..."

Jack groans with the image Daniel's words paint, causing his dick to swell up hard. "We don’t have all night," he replies with a quick glance at the bedside clock. "We might have another hour before Jaws is ready to start the day."

Daniel appraises the man hanging over him. "We have our whole lives..."

Jack's face opens into a huge smile. "Now you're talkin'" Jack agrees. "But right now, we have some urgent business to attend to." He eyes their straining dicks meaningfully.

"Quick and dirty this time," Daniel says, reaching for the lube, "because I really don’t want to wait anymore. Tonight I'll teach you the proper way to prep me for next time."

"But I thought…"

Daniel pulls him down again and kisses him deeply as their chests slide together on a slippery cushion of breast milk, then whispers, "Believe me when I tell you that I'm as anxious to make love to you as I am for this. We'll get there, I promise. I'm being completely selfish here. I've wanted your dick in me since the first time I laid eyes on you." He slathers the slick all along Jack's erect penis. "Go slow." Then he lets his shoulders fall to the bed and grabs his legs below the knee, spreading wide.

Seeing Jack's expression of indecision, Daniel adds, "Tab A into slot B."

Jack eyes the tiny hole then shakes his head. "Not to brag, but there's no way in hell that's gonna fit."

"Trust me. I did some prep in the shower, it'll fit just fine." He releases his hold on his right leg and brings Jack's face down for another kiss. When it ends, he whispers, "Now fuck me," against his lips.

Jack shuffles around on his knees a little and takes himself in hand, aiming for the star-shaped opening that's one third the size of his cock head. It doesn’t look promising.

"Remember," Daniel says softly. _"I'm_ driving this; _you_ are practicing restraint."

"Restraint," Jack repeats, eyes still locked on his target. "Practicing. Got it."

Daniel thinks what a great pupil Jack is and how much fun it's going to be teaching him about gay sex. He props his legs over Jack's shoulders, consciously relaxes his hole, and he feels the head pop just inside.

"Oh, god..." Jack groans, eyes closing.

"Restraint, Jack, restraint," he urges through clenched teeth, "I'm not ready yet."

Jack's eyes are closed. He knows that the minute he looks down and sees himself actually _inside Daniel's body_ he'll lose it. "Okay," he squeaks. "I got it. Completely under control here."

Daniel snorts, panting through the burn. "You are such a liar."

"I'm tryin', I'm tryin'," he groans. "It's so fuckin' tight in there." He clears his throat, eyes still tightly closed. "So. How about the Avalanche this year? Think we got any chance at the Cup?"

Daniel lets Jack distract himself while he concentrates on relaxing against the invasion. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and then releases it slowly out through his mouth, feeling Jack slowly start to sink in. "Lean," he commands. _"Gradually."_

Jack leans in, not thrusting, just letting his body weight insinuate his dick toward his goal, and prays that he can keep his thoughts far enough detached from what he's actually doing that he doesn’t lose what tiny filament of control he currently possesses. 

Daniel clenches hard and then bears down on the release, and feels Jack inching forward. He repeats the exercise several times, and suddenly Jack's angle of attack shifts slightly up and he sinks in the rest of the way. "That's it." Daniel moans, his back arching up and away from Jack so that the cockhead inside him glides across his prostate. "Oh, god, you're in. _Don't. Move."_

Jack can't decide if Daniel's tone indicates extreme pleasure or unbearable pain, so he risks a one-eyed peek at the man beneath him and immediately slams his eyes shut tight. The sight is so overwhelmingly erotic that he's instantly at risk of dumping his load. Every cord in Daniel's neck is rigid; his mouth is open wide in some kind of soundless scream. His body's covered in sweat and milk, and his skin glistens. 

Jack's frozen in place, terrified to breathe too deeply.

Then Daniel runs his hand up Jack's trembling arm and up behind his neck, exerting just enough pressure that his locked arms start to buckle, and Daniel's legs slide down Jack's arms. Somehow, Jack aborts the imminent crash by maneuvering onto his elbows, bearing some of his weight. 

His eyes are still tightly closed as he grits out, "What the _hell_ did you do that for?"

Beneath him, Daniel arches up against him, then relaxes. He repeats the move, emitting a kind of whimpering noise as he does so. He pauses long enough to reply, "Prostate. Massage," in a strangled whisper. _"Unbelievable._ Just a couple more..." 

He arches again, and the sound he makes this time is clearly one of pleasure.

Jack can't resist opening his eyes to see the look of pure bliss which Daniel's exhibiting. When he releases the next arch, Jack pulls out half way and thrusts in, deliberately angling up, taking Daniel by surprise and making him gasp. "That it?"

"Fuckyeahdothatagain."

Smiling smugly, Jack’s pleased that he's been able to catch on so quickly; this isn't so different than being with a woman, and he feels his confidence soar. "I'm really likin' this interactive part." He withdraws and thrusts again, and is rewarded by another gasp from his partner. On a hunch, he levers forward another notch and then circles his hips slowly, and without warning Daniel comes between them with an unapologetic groan of exquisite relief, hand grabbing for his dick almost as an afterthought.

Jack takes in every nuance of Daniel’s blissed-out expression as the slippery warmth spreads between them. A dollop of come has landed on Daniel's lower lip and Jack bends to kiss it off, capturing Daniel's mouth in the bargain, thrusting with his tongue as he picks up the pace of thrusting inside his body, no longer trying to hold off his own completion.

As the kiss deepens, Daniel's arms encircle him and Jack can feel a heel planted against his tailbone, holding them joined together in the most intimate of ways. Jack comes with Daniel's body wrapped all around him, and his taste in his mouth.

*****

"Jack?"

"Shhhh..." Jack murmurs. "I'm basking."

"No, you’re heavy."

"You said you wanted to fall asleep still inside..."

"Yeeaah..." Jack can feel the rumble of Daniel's chuckle underneath him and around him, turning what would otherwise be a commonplace public act into a private sexual one, which Jack has had the pleasure of experiencing _from inside Daniel's body._ He knows that for the rest of his life, he'll become aroused every time he hears Daniel chuckle about anything.

"That's... I didn’t mean in this position, because, y'know, _hea--vy."_

"But I really like this position," Jack murmurs into Daniel's neck with an accompanying wriggle of his hips. They're essentially glued together by semen and breast milk, and the resulting aroma of personal fluids is dizzying. He wishes he wasn’t going soft because he'd really like to go again immediately.

He knows Daniel arranged it this way, letting him have the guy part this first time so he'd have something familiar to do and he could forget about his girl bits for a few moments. He thinks maybe he's even more in love with the man than he was just a few minutes ago.

And he can hardly wait for it to be his turn.

"My turn after lunch?" he asks softly.

"I'm not in any hurry for that," Daniel replies with a deep yawn. His warm hands continuously skim all across Jack's shoulders and back – loving and tactile touches that spread warmth and belonging along every nerve pathway Jack possesses. Something he hadn’t consciously realized he'd been missing for more years than he'd like to admit.

Now having experienced this tenderness, this closeness, he can't imagine trying to go back to being just friends. Daniel was right, damn him.

He hopes this feeling of... of... _vulnerability_ is what it is, let's call a spade a spade here-- is a function of his over-amped hormones, and that he'll get over this near-crippling need for continual reassurance eventually, because, yeah, okay, he may be a damsel right at the moment, but he won't be one forever, and he'd like to think there was a huge bucket of normal waiting for him on the other side of all of this.

He's regained his elbows so some of the weight's off Daniel, and the joy of laying together, lazy and spent, still intimately coupled, is nearly overwhelming. He doesn’t know how to contain the enormity of the elation that he's feeling, overlaid by the nagging fear that he'll do or say something stupid in the next five minutes to drive Daniel away for good. His heart's a prisoner on an emotional field of battle on which he's nothing but a damned cherry fresh out of OTS, and he's unarmed and hopelessly outgunned.

"I..." Their lives have changed in the last hour, for the better, he knows. Forever, he hopes. Unfortunately, he's not getting that vibe from Daniel right now, and that's making him kinda nervous. Like maybe it _–he--_ hadn’t been... enough.

"Tell me how you feel," he asks finally, mouthing all along Daniel's collarbone, trying for casual, trying to mask the urgency he feels waiting for the answer he needs to hear.

A tiny, complaining groan, like swatting at an insistently buzzing insect. "Sleepy. You wiped me out. Need a nap."

"No, I mean..." He can't ask, since that'd be just walking into the trap Daniel'd warned him about, the whole 'binding to the other parent using sex' thing, and that's not what this is, at least he hopes it isn’t, but dear god, he could really use some spontaneous reassurance right about now, because, _I'm not in any hurry,_ and, _I need a nap,_ doesn’t especially sound as though he's as emotionally invested as Jack is, and _godammit,_ he needs some intel here. Is that really too much to ask? 

And no, he's _not_ insecure.

Usually.

Then Daniel makes another sound, a low, humming kind of noise that sounds a little less irritated, and struggles to open heavy eyes, and Jack stops breathing as he waits for the verdict.

The frown that immediately comes together between his eyebrows and spreads until all traces of drowsy and nicely sated sleep are gone. This expression isn’t what Jack'd been hoping for at all, and his heart sinks. He looks away and starts to move to the side. In the process, his dick slides free of Daniel's body and now Jack is completely unmoored.

"Hey, now."

Jack doesn’t answer, nor does he meet Daniel's eyes as he keeps moving.

It isn’t difficult for Daniel to roll them so that he's on top, looking down into Jack's face, his hand cupping his cheek.

"Talk to me."

Jack attempts an offhand shrug because he's pretty sure he can't conjure a convincing yawn, and the warm palm against his cheek is tender and insistent and it's going to kill him for sure. He resists –barely-- turning his face into the comfort of Daniel's hand. "You're right. Nap sounds good."

Daniel doesn’t move, however, and when the entreating palm encourages his head to turn and Jack's eyes graze briefly across Daniel's face, he sees the blue eyes soften and the frown vanish. He knows Daniel's just read him like a goddamn book, because the smile is mostly in his eyes, but it's there, and it's embarrassing how relieved Jack feels. "Fucking hormones," he mutters disgustedly.

The grin Daniel gives him is the light in Jack's soul, and he only resists a little when Daniel bends to claim his mouth before he's all in.

"We've got all the time in the world, you know that, right?" Daniel whispers, as he takes Jack's earlobe between his teeth.

"All the time," Jack repeats dutifully, arching as his eyes roll back into his head, relishing Daniel's attentions, and trying not to feel guilty for needing them.

"And many, _many_ more positions and techniques to try," he breathes right into Jack's ear.

Jack's groan is low and needy. "I wanna try'em all." His hands scrabble to grasp both of Daniel's asscheeks, squeezing them, pulling Daniel even closer. Daniel chuckles throatily, and Jack wishes he'd been inside him to feel it firsthand.

Daniel bends to kiss him again, then whispers, "We'll get around to all of them eventually. But right now, we should probably both go clean up. We kind of stink."

"Need some help with that?" Jack asks with a ridiculous wiggle of his eyebrows, feeling lighter because he was being stupid, but Daniel saw through him and everything's fine.

Daniel smirks. "Sure," he says, starting to roll off in order to get to his feet. "Oh –" he stops dead in his tracks, still looking down into Jack's now serious face. "I've been meaning to ask you. Are we really sure Thor put you all back together inside? There's no chance I can get you pregnant again is there?"

Between them, Jack's dick lurches hopefully, causing Daniel's eyes to widen as he opens his mouth to speak. Jack slaps his hand across Daniel's mouth before he can even get a sound out and frowns sternly. He's sure he'll die from terminal embarrassment long before they can even _try_ the next position. "Oh. Don’t. _Even,"_ Jack warns.

Daniel completes the aborted roll, swatting Jack's ass as his chuckle blooms into belly-laughter that fills the room. "Hey, don't worry about it," he says, turning on the shower taps. "Wait till you hear some of _my_ kinks..."

WordGeek  
February 14, 2015

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I went there. And let's face it, the Muse wants what it wants. ::crosses trope off list:: Some text snippets credit to Devlin and Emerich and Robert C. Cooper. 
> 
> Hello, my name is WordGeek, and I'm a CommaHolic. Many, many, many, many, (too many commas?) Beta thanks to Shazzz!; all remaining mistakes (and prolly some commas) belong entirely to my own stubborn self.


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